


Embers of Autumn

by Luckyfirerabbit



Category: RWBY
Genre: Descriptive Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied abuse, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, implied alcohol abuse, universe altered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 68
Words: 471,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8089204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyfirerabbit/pseuds/Luckyfirerabbit
Summary: Beyond the looking glass, there be monsters. (Post Vol3)





	1. Prologue

The pain had been strangely brief. It had begun as little more than a paper cut and steadily began digging deeper with a sharply pitching heat. It snatched away the ability to breathe, to speak, to react, setting every muscle rigid. And then, just like that it faded, and with it the piercing image of burning amber eyes.

And for a time, no knowing how long, there is nothing. All sensation dissipates.

Then it all comes stampeding back with a wild compulsion to breathe. It feels like sucking scorching air through a straw, lungs still restricted though she knows she gasping. The burning surges back tenfold, permeating every nerve with hooked claws that tear at her like her fingers at the sensation of a wound in her chest. Her body bows so sharply at the pain her spine threatens to snap right in half. When she finally draws enough air, just as the agony peaks, she lets a scream rip itself free.

She goes limp, limbs flopping against the hard ground and stirring up little drifts of dry soil. Her ears ring and her body throbs but now she can breathe, and she does so quickly, desperately. The air tastes of copper and ash...or is that blood in her mouth? Her mind is full of hot static, trying to comprehend everything and nothing at the same time. Fractured memories pass behind her closed lids in a flurry of color and interference and her ears pick up nothing but white noise that's far too loud. Everything then collapses into a dull ringing, her skin livid with a simmering itch that's she is too overwhelmed to scratch.

Everything suddenly focuses like the edge of a blade, jerking her focus to the center as a touch so cold it _burns_ works around her bottom jaw. Slender fingers hook into her, the tips of talons threatening to draw blood as the grip tightens and tightens, lifting her head and angling her chin painfully upward. Her hands snap around a rigid forearm, the flesh beneath her fingers cold as well, like a corpse. She claws at it, finding no purchase. She forces her eyes open, fighting to do so just as hard as she struggles to pry that clawed hand loose.

It's a mess of crimson and shadow mixed with startling streaks of white, like some mad someone tore their hands across a wet canvas. The only thing of clarity are a set of eyes, black as pitch with haunting red irises. The first thing she feels other than pain is dread, brought on by _those eyes_ that seem to glow in pleasure at her visible dismay. And the sensation only grows as she loses the will to fight and the rest of the face comes into focus; white skin, white hair, and the staggering angles of black veins that seem to emerge from the woman's eyes.

She says nothing, only smiles.

 

_(II)_

Winter feels colder this year, somehow. The seasonal bitterness arrived early and was threatening to stay late, the snowfall the most regular it has ever been. The air is still during the day and wails in the night, bringing more clouds across Vale. Feels like they hadn't seen the sun in days.

The four teens move from one little town to the next, hunting Grimm in exchange for room and board mostly, at the very least offered chairs by a tavern fireplace so they don't have to sleep outside. It has been like this for three weeks now, and Haven is still so far away.

They're gathered around the fireplace tonight, keeping close together and away from the commotion in the inn. Jaune is sitting on the hearth, his back to it, his chin bobbing at irregular intervals as he fights off sleep. Even in the shadows cast by the fire the dark circles hanging under his eyes are hard to miss. Ren hunches in his chair, his chest bracing the back of it and his forearms folded under his chin. His eyes are shut entirely, no evident struggle against it pulling his features. Nora is just in front of him, cross-legged on the floor, the quickly dissolving remnants of a snow ball she brought inside rolling between her hands. She's quietly watching it shrink as it wets her palms, almost amused.

Ruby waits at the counter, the tip of one boot tapping the floor. She's staring at the worn wooden surface of the bar, distracting herself in counting the stripes and spots on the grain, expression mostly vacant. Her attention snaps back to center at the clunk of full tin pints in front of her, each of them steaming with hot cider. She thanks the keeper with a little smile, pays him, and manages all the glasses into her hands.

One by one she hands them out, bumping Jaune's foot with her own until he fully wakes, and handing two to Nora -now that her hands are free- before sitting down with her own cider tucked close to her chest. She takes the first sip, savoring the warmth that washes through her as the heat works into her stomach. The dull ache in her joints and shoulders eases a little, and she begins waiting like she does almost every evening or whenever things are too still or too quiet.

Ruby waits for that look from Jaune, the one that telegraphs his need to ask her a question. In the seemingly short time they have been traveling together she has seen it so often that she starts sensing it, even when she can't see his face she knows it's there. Though his questions are often innocent enough, they're almost always inquiries to validate his choices. She feels a pang of sympathy at his regular second-guesses in regards to his actions. She's convinced it sprouted out of his shot self-confidence, his internalized sense of impotence, and frankly she finds zero surprise in the idea.

But she knows it's coming, that one question she has been dreading -sick to her stomach- for weeks. Ruby can almost hear it in his voice, echoing between her ears like somber church bells.

_What happened up there?_

And there's the look. There's the tucked, subdued tilt of his chin towards his chest and his lifted blue eyes, sober and quietly pleading. She can hold it, meets it evenly, but only for so long. It makes her feel heavy after a few seconds and she can't help but pull her gaze away. That's when she swears he's going to ask, when she feels so damn vulnerable because she's playing that night back in her head over and over. But, as so many times before, the words never come. If the question _is_ on his mind, he keeps it to himself. Something she's partially grateful for.

"Ruby,"

Her body tightens like a sprung mousetrap, muscles snapping to attention for all of a split-second.

"I...um...I noticed...we're pretty close to Beacon." he stutters quietly. "I can't help but wonder...what's left of it."

She manages to look at him, finding comfort in his changed expression. His eyes are soft, no longer begging. "I think about it too." she exhales easily. "...Should we check it out?"

He turns away, brow knitting and scratching the back of his head. "I dunno." he stumbles over whatever words were to come next. "It's probably too dangerous."

Out of reflex she nods, taking another sip of her cider, but internally something tugs at her. He's playing it safe again, his uncertainty showing. She wants to tell him they should just go ahead with it, but feels like it isn't really her place. For all intents and purposes, he's team leader, not her. Though they seem to be trading the role back and forth these days. And she knows it's because he's scared. He doesn't want to lose anyone else.

Another subject Ruby feels she has no real business in discussing with him. Her team is effectively non-existent, her heart pinching hard at the thought, and if she had only been... _seconds_ sooner...Jaune's team would still be whole. _If_ is such an ugly word.

"Let's just sleep on it." she tries quietly.

"...You're right." he says eventually, nodding. He finishes his pint and shifts around, shoving his backpack beneath his head as he inches into the small right angle where the fireplace meets the wall. His back is to her now and she watches his body expand and contract with one big breath. "Good night, Ruby."

"Night, Jaune." and she mimics his shrug with one of her own.

For a spell she stays awake, watching the fire in the hearth and trying to let her mind wander away from missing people. Not that it works. She misses Blake and Weiss, never having been able to say good-bye or try to stop them. The memory of Yang the last time they saw each other, her lack of a response to a simple "I love you", tears at her. And Pyrrha...god, she misses Pyrrha. She misses team movie night at Beacon where all eight of them piled together in the dorm with junk food and big blankets, laughing themselves sick more times than not. Now it's just the four of them huddled together because it's just too cold to do otherwise. She even misses the scant few times they were stuck in detention with Goodwitch, whereas now they're isolated in the wild with no hopes of that liberating school bell that chimes every hour. She misses how at one time her biggest problem was whether or not her cape was clean enough to wear one more day.

When she is too tired to keep her eyes open she fishes her blanket out of her backpack and shuffles over to the same corner as Jaune. She puts her back to his and curls up under the stretch of wool, a little shiver working through her as she settles. It isn't long before Nora and Ren do the same, sandwiching the youngest hunter in the middle, Nora having a hold of Ren about the waist like he was little more than a stuffed toy.

Tomorrow they would wake up and continue heading east. Just like yesterday and the day before that.

 

_(III)_

Pain is constant, even when she manages to sleep. This place in itself is _painful_ to inhabit. Everything is roughly hewn stone and volcanic glass that rubs her raw from head to toe, and it's _cold_. Though she isn't shivering, knowing in the back of her mind that she should be. Her muscles feel drawn tight, sore, overtaxed and unable. Her sternum burns with a particularly sharp pain, like a twisting blade that sends white hot sparks all through her body. She chanced a look at it once, the remains of the wound she finds appearing not at all like she expects. It's thick, raised, and jet black, and she can almost swear she sees the traces of darkening veins springing out around it.

She sits on the ground, propped against a giant stone with her head tilted back -the only comfortable position she can find. She can see the shattered moon above. The fractured celestial body nestles perfectly in the circular opening of this cavern she's found herself in, leaving no room for ideas as to the passage of time and the only source of light. Something to focus on other than the flickering despair in her heart, it's constant glow almost soothing.

"Miss Nikos...are you awake?"

Pyrrha swallows, a thick sound working through her throat. "I am, professor." she exhales, cringing at how dry her mouth feels. She turns her head, slowly, trying to push down the crackling ache in her neck. Through a natural pane of volcanic glass she can see Ozpin sitting there, his image blurred and tinted strangely purple. The glass is full of slanted and round openings, ripples that center around empty spaces, though none of them are big enough to put more than a hand through.

Ozpin leans forward, straightening from his lounged position until he can look through one of the openings. Sympathy pulls lines around his eyes as he processes the pitiful sight of her. "How are you holding up?"

Strangely, she tries to smile. "...I'm not too sure, actually. How do I look?"

"...Not your best." Something jerks in the pit of his stomach. Frankly, she looks absolutely terrible, that is, in comparison to the Pyrrha he has always seen. Is she even aware of the blood on her face?

"Ah." she nods slowly, turning her head to look up again. "How long has it been?"

"I don't know. If I were to venture a guess, I'd say time is...rather abstract here."

She's quiet for a moment, swallowing again. "Where is _here_?"

"A good question." he nods, his mouth a thin line. "Though, again, I can only speculate."

Something bitter bites the back of her mind, something markedly uncharacteristic. A caustic thought of _do you know anything, you stupid old man?_ She internally balks at the idea of ever uttering such a thing. "Can you...at least tell me who she is?"

"...That's quite a long story." he eventually replies, almost too softly to hear.

"Well, it isn't like we have anywhere else to be."

He shrugs. "Fair enough."

"Do you know her?"

"I did once, yes. Feels like forever ago." he shifts, crossing his arms and lying back against the stone. "It was some time before I took over at Beacon. Her name was Salem Ashita and she was a Witch, just like her sister. The three of us attended the same combat school...made for easy friends.

"She was so talented," he shakes his head, eyes distantly fixed on something unseen, "like nothing I had ever seen. She had this uncanny ability to...I don't know how to describe it...charm a person, I suppose."

Pyrrha's brow furrows, a gentle crease in the middle. "She could control people?"

"Well...it wouldn't surprise me if she was capable, to be honest. Salem was the kind to step into a crowded room and make everything else stop."

"And I'd be willing to bet I still could."

How Ozpin hadn't felt her presence run up his back is more startling than her sudden appearance. His honey colored eyes cut to the staggering black shape he can make out through the glass, her burning irises the only thing not obscured.

"I hope I'm not interrupting."

He feels the muscles in his back and jaw bunch tight, her energy raking over him in a wave of frigid static. That smile of hers has always hooked into him, but once it hadn't been such an unpleasant thing.

Pyrrha feels it too, something in the sealed wound in her chest that reacts to Salem's close proximity, almost reaching. The pain pitches hard, pulling on her ribs, but she forces herself not to visibly react as she tries to straighten. She resolutely meets Salem's eyes once the Witch turns to look at her, the volcanic glass between them appearing to open up as she steps through. For a moment she's silent, Salem only smiling in a way that reminds Pyrrha of an open wound. Then she tips her pale chin upward about an inch, allowing her to look down on the young huntress. "So how will you do it this time? Standing up," the grin widens, "or on your knees?"

That's not a question to Pyrrha, just wasted words. To her there is only one way. It takes some effort, her tired and aching body resisting, but she manages to her feet. Though the silent protest only lasts so long. Long enough for Salem's eyes to flash bright and hellish at the same time her taloned fingers curl at her side.

Salem enjoys watching the young woman suffer, the agony twisting her features stirring something in her like nothing else does. That awful smile only grows wider as Pyrrha's knees buckle, her body bending in half and her hands clawing at the black mark on her chest. She hasn't started screaming yet, but she will. _She will_. And when she does, that's when her eyes ease away to Ozpin. She tugs on the dark magic she's forcing through Pyrrha's body a little harder, thinking the resulting wail will garner his attention. She wants him to _see this_ , see it while he's helpless, robbed of his cane and his aura and his allies. _Ozpin_ brought this poor child to the chopping block and the least he could do is watch her be butchered.

Salem won't pull all the magic back when she's finished, leaving a little to nest in the young huntress like a red hot coal hidden under ash. It won't be long until she can fan it to a flame and observe what happens. As satisfied as she is watching Pyrrha twist against the floor, sputtering as blood gushes from her nose, there's a twist of frustration at the corner of her mouth. The small kink in her alabaster features opens up into a half snarl as she watches Ozpin a moment; he hasn't moved an inch, seeming not to have reacted at all. But her expressions neutralizes and a deep breath moves silently through her. It's all right. She would be back soon enough to do this all again.

 

_(IV)_

He sits alone on the bank of a half frozen lake, trying to focus on how it reminds him of home as well as ignore how his thoughts keep hanging up on the deceptively heavy ring of bronze cradled in his hands. His eyes are fixed over the water while his fingers curl and unfurl from around the soft but cold metallic edges. An emerald token on a chain rests against the pad of his thumb, constantly pulling his attention to it.

Jaune dips his chin at the behest of some invisible and incredible weight, his brow furrowing tight enough to hurt. His eyes hold a powerful mixture of contempt and longing, both emotions working a spark of pain in his heart. He doesn't want to cry again but can't help himself, already feeling the heat of tears rising into his face. The jerk of his heart bottoming out in his stomach brings the first of them down his cheeks and he chokes on a sob. She really was gone.

Maybe the last few months he had been in some sort of silent denial -Ruby still having not told him what happened- but holding this in his hands solidified the situation. They had found it in Beacon, the toppled city now days behind them, covered in a fine layer of gray dust among the rubble and in the shadow of that horrific dragon sort of Grimm that was still perched in stasis. His eyes had centered on it almost immediately, the only flicker of color in the place. He remembers that breathless feeling it brought him, how it made his body heavy and almost brought him to his knees. How it made every memory of her suddenly flash through his mind before collapsing into a solid pain in his chest. Then he hadn't had the stomach to even touch it, but now he couldn't bear to have the object too far from him. He keeps the coronet in his backpack, mostly out of sight but never out of mind.

Jaune hates himself, as one imagines most do when they lose someone. He hates himself for all the time he wasted, all the things he missed because he was just a stupid kid, all the things he should have said and done. He hates how he hadn't tried harder, knowing he could have. Most of all, he hates that he hadn't been strong enough for her to count on him.

He tries his best not to think of the last night he saw Pyrrha, that wound is still too livid to touch. But he does anyhow, it having kept him up all night on more than one occasion. He feels his stomach turn at the heavy, shattering recollection of the inside of that damn locker -it never occurred to him that something so familiar would be so sickening- and the echoes of his pleas to her. He knew Pyrrha meant to save him, but...she shouldn't have had to do that. He should've been stronger. For her. He was team leader, for heaven's sake.

And it's reminding himself of that bitter fact that only makes it all worse, makes him feel paper thin and impotent. He was the leader...yet he never felt like one. He knew nothing of leadership or what it meant to foster unity or inspire others to fight. He knew jack shit. He was no leader, not without her. Hell, _all of them_ were lost.

_That's_ the biggest regret that fills him. Ren and Nora still needed him, _they_ were still here and _he_ felt so powerless. Jaune didn't know how to be whatever it is they needed, much less if he was even able, but Pyrrha would have known and she would have shown him how. And...

"Jaune?"

His entire body flinches, equally startled as well as his senses simply abhor the disturbance. He quickly wipes his arm across his face and clears his throat, hoping his bloodshot eyes wouldn't be discernible in the fading darkness. "W-what is it, Ruby?"

"It's only a couple of hours before sunup, you should try to sleep."

"I tried." he exhales, turning to look at her. "Just couldn't."

She nods, her eyes averted for a moment. "Are...you okay?"

"Yeah." it's a knee-jerk response, practiced. "Just thinking."

Another little nod as she chances a few small steps down the bank, crossing her legs and sitting down beside him. "What about?"

He looks down at his hands and takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "Just a little homesick."

Ruby watches him tuck his chin and look down. For a brief second she feels a little guilty for being so nosy, but it's quickly replaced by a heavy pinch in her heart. Empathy pulls her features, knitting her brow and thinning her lips into a line. Swallowing she leans into him, hooking one arm under his. Without a question he accepts the gesture, tilting his head to feel the top of hers against his cheek.

"Me too." is all she says.

 

_(V)_

There is no way of knowing how long she has been lying here. If this place entertains the concept of day and night it feels as though they have all blurred together, distinguished only by the countless times she has passed out and regained consciousness.

Pyrrha wakes suddenly as a brief dream gives way to darkness and a charge of pain in her chest. The first breath she takes is wet, wheezing, she chokes through her exhale and dislodges something heavy and copper tasting that splatters to the floor. The crackling discomfort in her muscles forces her to move, pushing up on the heels of her palms to her knees. She feels so cold, inside and out, but in her heart there's a terrible _burning_ , every exhale heated by it. Her mind is splintered, breaking up like a pane of glass in a hurricane being held together by a strip of tape and a prayer. She can't focus, the world seems to move around her, all her attempts to stand up fail.

"That's right, keep trying," Salem encourages, sounding strangely genuine. Her face twists from a smile to snarl like _that_ , punctuating the fresh wave of black magic she forces through Pyrrha's body, black and red arcs of energy crackling from her fingertips. "I _love_ it when they fight. Don't you, Ozpin?" Her burning eyes cut to him, making out his standing shape beyond the purple glass. His hands are pressed against it, knuckles white as his fingers curl into the small openings. She can feel his eyes. _Finally_ she has his attention.

"Stop, Salem!" Ozpin pulls against the glass as if it would accomplish something. "You keep going on about how much you want me to suffer, well here I am!"

"Yes, you're right where I want you to be." the magic dissipates, Pyrrha slumping onto her stomach. With slow steps Salem moves towards him. "And there's no doubt in my mind that you are indeed suffering. You think I've forgotten how to hurt you? Please,"

Bronze and brimstone meet through the glass, both burning bright. " _You_ , the one who always helped the helpless when we were children, who always stepped between the weak ones and destruction, who made me believe you were _different._ But you're not, are you, Jarreth? You're just like everyone else that ever _used_ me for my magic."

Ozpin's eyes thin. " _That_ is between us, Salem, leave Pyrrha out of this."

"Oh no, not when I know how much it _kills you_ to see her pay for _your mistakes._ Not when it causes you so much misery to be... _powerless_ ." then her irises flux with light. "And _this_ is only the beginning."

When she turns her back to him Ozpin begins to shout, madly spouting demands he's in no position to give, and she can't help but smirk with a smug little laugh. With casual comfort she returns her attention to the young huntress still prone on the floor.

Salem kneels down, black robes pooling around her. With the tip of one talon she pushes strands of hair from Pyrrha's face, bright red tresses curled and stuck with sweat. Her skin has a pallor much like Salem's own, but not quite. It's more gray than white. The dull red veins have spread and darkened all over her body, and those eyes were looking a little dimmer now. The mark in the middle of her chest is showing a faint glow, bright orange and yellow and red, the makings of a piercing eye. Yes, perhaps it was time to move on with this little experiment.

"You poor thing." she exhales, a grin still pulling upward on the corners of her lips. "It's so tragic that Ozpin convinced you to throw yourself away like this."

No response. Pyrrha is barely conscious.

" _Salem, please_ !" Ozpin cries, desperation breaking his voice. "I will do _anything_!"

Her eyes snap to him with a quick twist of her neck. "Anything?"

" _Yes_!"

"Then _watch_."

Salem snaps to attention, her eyes still on him for all of a second before she puts her back to him again. Even _he_ feels the hard pitch of energy in the place, Salem turning her hands inwards in front of her, fingers hooking and allowing arcs of black magic to pop between them. She wills her power to take shape between her hands, a writhing black sphere that steadily grows larger just as the infernal light in her eyes intensifies and fills the stone cell.

When she releases it the energy jumps away from her, latching onto Pyrrha and burying itself in her chest. It pushes through the relatively tiny space of the scar there, leaving it burning bright red. Pyrrha's body snaps upward in the middle and then begins jerking like a wild animal in its death throws. Initially she can't breathe, her mouth open in a silent scream and her lungs unable to work. Pyrrha has to force the scream out, her vocal chords now shot all to hell. Every other sound that leaves her is choked and hoarse, until her jaw snaps together tight enough to hurt. One more pain to layer on top of all the rest.

Simmering pleasure pulls Salem's smile wider, wide enough to reveal fangs, looking more like the onset of some madness than any form of joy -something she hasn't been able to feel in years. But there's something in there, something among the emptiness that stirs with the commingling of Ozpin's pleading and Pyrrha's suffering. A part of her holds onto it, drinking in the sensation. It's only amplified as she watches the change come over the young huntress, the veins spreading and the whites of her eyes fading into solid pitch. So dark they don't even catch the light. The green of her irises now appears toxic. Then it's quiet.

For a moment the Witch allows her to lie there, to acclimate.

At Salem's gentle beckoning the huntress rises smoothly to her feet without staggering or evidence of pain. Blood is still pouring from her nose, but the loss doesn't appear to be affecting her at all. She stands steadily and her features are stuck in neutral, eyes forward and trained on nothing. Salem steps around her, smugly scrutinizing, her eyes moving over the young woman.

Ozpin feels his body deflate, his knees buckle and he falls on his backside. "W-what have you done?" he pants.

"I'm not... _entirely_ sure," Salem purrs, trying not to laugh as she toys her bottom lip with one talon, "but I'm _dying_ to find out."

"...Should I come back another time?"

Salem turns her head to the open archway she had originally come through. "Ah, Cinder, welcome. Good to see you found your way."

The woman looks drawn, exhausted, but her molten amber eyes still shimmer with life. "More or less. It wasn't easy."

"I imagine not. Please," and Salem gestures with one hand, fingers curling in a beckoning gesture. "Have a look."

Cinder approaches with apparent indifference, though that shifts once she's close enough to actually see. She crosses her arms and arcs one brow, laughing softly before catching her bottom lip between her teeth. Her amusement is palpable. Letting curiosity get the better of her, Cinder chances a wave of her hand in front of Pyrrha's face, expecting some sort of reaction but receiving none.

"Her mind should come back, given a little time."

"Not _entirely_ I would hope."

"Oh no," a soft chuckle, "not entirely, I'll see to that. So what do you think?"

Cinder takes one last look. "...Teach me?"

"Soon enough, once I've worked out the kinks. But, until then, I have a special task for you."

She gives Salem her full attention, facing her.

All the pleasure is gone from her face, her mouth and eyes thin, severe. "I want _all_ of Ozpin's children dead. I don't care how it's done, only that it's done quickly."

"With all due respect, I had intended to do that with or without your permission."

Salem's red irises flash. "But you will do it on _my_ timetable, not yours. I saw what happened in Beacon, you know I did, and I saw what _that child_ was able to do. _She stopped Jabberwocky_."

"I know. I was there." Cinder responds flatly. "It's a minor setback, I'll take care of it."

"See that you do. I won't tolerate any loose ends. Understand?"

Cinder's eyes thin briefly, their expressions matching. Then she gently nods. "Of course."

"Good. Now go gather your allies, should you have any left."

 

 

Author's Note: All right, ladies and germs, I'm back in a new fandom. Now, I'm still actively doing research on RWBY, but I have also watched the show up until now; that being said I intend to write this fic in accordance with what the show has revealed thus far. I understand a new volume is only weeks away, but I don't intend to change this UA to incorporate the elements that are coming in the next season. Secondly, the first half of this fic is likely to focus on RWBY and RNJR with a sprinkling of OC's in there somewhere, whereas the second half will be mostly made up of team JNPR. If you're interested in a little bit of set up for the OC's and the role they'll play in the story, you can check out this two-part piece on my DA: http://luckyfirerabbit.deviantart.com/art/Na-Selva-Pt-One-RWBY-UA-628749137

 

Otherwise, hope you enjoy, and feel free to throw questions my way, most likely I'll answer.

 


	2. Chapter One

The funeral procession has most of the main thoroughfares through Atlas City closed, crowds gathering en mass along the sidewalks and in the balconies and atop the roofs above them. With so many people it's hard to believe just how quiet it is. Snow flurries fill the air, and the wind that comes and goes is the only sound apart from marching feet.

The color black makes her feel like a stranger in her own skin, never mind that her clothing is precisely tailored for _her_. Her entire body buzzes with anxious static, her delicate jaw tight with discomfort though everyone around her wears it too. A quick scan of the mass of bodies in entourage around her only reaffirms the half-thought that has been ghosting through her mind all day: Schnees were never meant to wear black.

Weiss feels Winter at her side, can see the shape of her firm silhouette in her peripheral, but she keeps her eyes fixed forward and resists the urge to blink and let the tears welling there to fall. She tries to focus on the quiet, unified steps of pallbearers and the whipping of cold air around her, anything to distract her from her own poorly fitted feeling _self._ Distract her from the dull pain in her back from keeping it perfectly straight, or the threatening bite of her nails against her palms as her hands fist at her sides, gently swinging. She wonders if her sister shoulders the same aches she does.

The Schnee family mausoleum rests on a direct line of sight two hundred yards from Schnee Manor, perhaps acting as a silent reminder of one's ultimate fate. A perfectly crafted, wrought iron reproduction of the Schnee family crest rests on the white marble face of the mausoleum, mimicking the house of the living that threw its shadow over it every day. The sisters ascend the stairs together, the heavy wooden double doors pushed open for them by uniformed attendants. The weight of the air changes in the shadows of the tomb, the only light provided through a five-by-five pane of glass above them, the family insignia a sharp darkness against the floor below it. Weiss glances at the brass placards on the walls, briefly recognizing names of her predecessors; great-grandparents, great-uncle, grandparents, mother...and then the newest one, the protective film from the production of it having yet to be pulled away.

Every movement echoes in here, making the space seem smaller, claustrophobic as Weiss stands beside her sister. Across from them are what remains of the board of directors -all old men that look like they couldn't feel anything at all, much less sorrow- and General Ironwood, who stares blankly with his head turned in regards to the remnants of the procession.

Weiss cannot even blink as the pallbearers lift the casket on their shoulders. Her back stiffens, jaw tightening again as the host of men push the box into the just big enough opening in the wall beneath the new plaque. They push steadily on its end until it disappears within the marble, stepping back to allow the vault door to be put in place and sealed. Like a diary in your closet, never to be opened again, but its presence always felt.

The procession collapses to file behind Weiss and Winter, Ironwood on the vacant side of the younger Schnee. There isn't a word between anyone until they have left the mausoleum, the doors slamming shut with a jarring sound that makes Weiss' shoulders flinch upward.

"My condolences." Ironwood whispers, offering nothing else.

Weiss and Winter both nod, one curt dip of the chin, no words. The procession starts back towards the manor. Internally, Weiss cringes, brow threatening to knit in the middle and dissolve her carefully crafted composure.

The news will say it was a heart attack, stress related no less. It was believable when regarding a death as sudden as Mr. Schnee's, though it isn't the whole truth, not the truth they had enough evidence to substantiate. Weiss' father had been sick for more than a month, not visibly, but sick all the same. He had been weak. She had seen it but never had the guts to bring it up to him in person the few times they inhabited the same space long enough to facilitate a conversation. It had started with him being late for meetings, meals, and then devolved into missing them altogether and eventually passing everything off on his assistants and youngest child. Winter had been on active duty -high-alert even- since Beacon fell some eight months ago.  _Eight months_ . Eight months of being the default daughter, the last resort. The better than nothing.

Perhaps a heart attack  _had_ killed him, but it had been only a symptom of something else. Something that the medical examiner is still looking into as quietly as possible. Ironwood, Winter, and herself are the only ones who have the suspicion of foul play and prefer to keep it that way for the time being. If anyone is actively trying to assassinate the Schnees, the less aware they appear the greater advantage they might gain. One would think so.

Halfway between the manor and the mausoleum, something catches Weiss' attention, something her eye immediately tries to track though she barely turns her head. A bright flicker of red in the mass of black and white and gray along the sidewalk. It was there and gone again, just like that, making her wonder if she had seen anything at all. Then there's the distinct, muted whistle like swift fingernails pulling over taught cloth. Weiss freezes at the sight of her sister in the corner of her eye, her body jerking backwards as something hits the middle of her chest with a loud  _THOP_ and a cut-off gasp bursting out of her. Winter's hand clutches her shoulder for a split second, her hooked fingers pulled free by her own tumbling weight. Weiss' head turns, her lips forming the first sounds of her sister's name just as she hears that dull whistle again that comes before a shock of pain so great it's dizzying. Her stocking-covered knees hit asphalt, splitting fabric and thin skin. Her head and neck throb hard in time with her climbing heartbeat. Her hand presses against her hot face, she feels the thick stickiness of blood on her palm immediately, feels the heat spread down her neck and soak into her clothes. 

Ironwood is shouting, people are running and screaming, more bodies drop to the street. Atlesian soldiers are trying to circle her, protect her. She can't catch her breath and all the sound is beginning to devolve into a dull ringing. Shock is making her stiffen up, muscles so tight they might snap right through her skin. She stiffly searches for Winter but can only see the soles of her sister's boots, unable to stomach the effort to look any higher.

Then everything is black and red and silver. Crimson darkness swirls in her skewed vision and wraps her up, strangely protective. There's warmth in it, her shock starting to subside as her mind struggles to focus on the flutter of rose petals all around. Suddenly she can breathe, and does so in deep, even yet shuddering heaves of her lungs.

"I've got you."

Now the tears come. Her arms search and cinch around a body, chin tucking into the curve where neck and shoulder meet, pulling for all she's worth. "Ruby." She exhales hard.

"Hold on,"

Weiss feels her body pulling, the bitter whipping of cold air rippling around her as they move together. She lifts her head when it stops, blinking through a rush of dizziness and rose petals until Ruby's face, flanked by the dark masonry of the alley she's tucked them away in, comes into focus. She knows that uneven smile, those seemingly always hopeful silver eyes, and that windswept hair. "Oh my god, it's you."

"I tried to get here sooner," that smile falters, "you're bleeding."

"I...don't...what happened," she's shaking her head fast enough for her ponytail to toss against her shoulders. Then she stills, eyes widening. " _Winter_ ,"

"No, no," Ruby stiffens, holds her still when her body jerks to try and stand up, "Weiss don't, it's not safe! You're unarmed,"

" _I don't care_ !" Weiss is clawing at her, trying to rip herself free from Ruby's grip. " _Winter_ !" she screams. The soles of her shoes scrape against the pavement, failing to find purchase to help her stand. Her heart is hammering behind her ribs and tears are rolling down her reddened and heated face.

"Weiss  _stop_ , listen, help is coming! Can't you hear the sirens?"

She can't hear anything but the roar of blood in her ears and the echoes of her broken cries bouncing off the buildings.

Ruby works both arms tight around Weiss, as tight as she physically can with one of her hands snapping around her own wrist. She tips herself back, hoping her body weight would keep her friend off balance. "Just wait!" she snaps finally, the both of them toppling over. "Wait for my uncle!"

"To  _hell_ with that old lush!" Weiss sobs. "Winter's going to die! Let  _go_ of me!" She gives one last earnest push against Ruby before the adrenaline and the shock swamp her. This makes room for the fear and pain to grab hold. "Let go," but the demand is little more than a choking whimper. She wants to cover her face with her hands, wail into her palms, but she can't. Ruby has her all wrapped up and trapped.

Ruby feels Weiss' aura rippling like sound waves against glass, jarring. She doesn't want to do this, but she knows she has to. It's too dangerous to let her go like this, near hysterical and unarmed into someone's cross-hairs. All she can do is hold on and say "I'm sorry," over and over. She can't begin to imagine the pain running rampant through her.

Qrow Branwen appears minutes later, briefly as a raven before shifting shape and becoming himself. Sheathing his sword he takes several long-legged steps towards the girls, one brow quirked upward in spite of the thin and firm line his mouth had become. "Good job, Ruby, you can let her up now."

"Is it safe?"

Qrow nods. "Marginally." a little hiccup. "I lost him around the manor, he was perched on one of the balconies."

Weiss almost scrambles to her feet once she's able, looking at the older hunter with a strange fusion of anger and disgust along with abject horror.  _In my own home. An assassin was..._

"I'm sorry, Weiss, we tried to get here as quick as we c-," he couldn't finish as she shoves passed him. He doesn't bother with the last of the words as he gestures for Ruby to follow with a curt lean of his head.

"You're sure it's okay?"

"As okay as it can be right now." he grumbles.

Weiss blinks into the light beyond the alley and doesn't wait for her vision to clear before searching for Winter. She forces herself to ignore the blood and the bodies still lying on the ground, quietly thankful none of them are her sister. There are soldiers and police and what look like medical personnel moving in packs all around. What grabs her attention most is the growl of an engine and a screaming siren as an ambulance pulls away much faster than what anyone would consider safe. Out of reflex she jerks into a run, eyes burning with another wave of tears as she screams after it. Half a dozen uneven steps pass beneath her before a firm hand on her upper arm jerks her to stop. Her free arm lashes out without her permission, the fist colliding with something much more solid than flesh.

"Miss Schnee," General Ironwood addresses, "you're injured. Please let me take you to the hospital."

At first she can't focus, almost missing his words completely. A little sharp shake of her head brings her back to center. She swallows everything down almost naturally, forcing her composure to take over. She's a Schnee, god damn it. "O-of course, general. Thank you."

"I have a transport waiting."

Though she won't allow him to lead her  _by the hand_ , not on her life, she follows him not too closely. But, once again, she only makes it a few steps before she stops. She feels something tear up her spine and into her chest, something she can't name or describe, just a sensation that stops everything around her. Snowflakes hang in midair, bodies in motion are locked mid-stride, yet she perceives herself to move as normal. For a moment she looks around, grounding herself away from thinking she's gone crazy at the image of Ruby and her uncle looking to run to catch up to her.

That something within her ribs suddenly goes cold,  _arctic_ as it nestles just behind her heart. It snatches her breath away as the chill resonates through her body. It permeates her skin, muscles, the marrow of her bones, and when it gets into her lungs she exhales, eyes widening with a hand over her mouth to feel the frigid air being expelled. She can feel the fear again, the panic, and with it the snowflakes begin to stir. As her heart rate mounts the flurries begin to spin around her in a silent white squall, she feels no maelstrom but something is pushing her long hair against her neck and shoulders.

In the white static she starts seeing images, silhouettes that steadily come into focus as the snow whips around her. Color splashes in streaks before her, spilling into the shadows to give them better form and to give her a jolt of realization: it was Winter. At least an image of her. It was joined by another form, though this one was completely unrecognizable but clearly female. And then another and another and another. All of them women from all over Remnant as marked by changes is facial features and skin tones and hairstyles. Many of them are faunus, others wear armor reminiscent of the Great War, another she would swear could be a distant Schnee ancestor. They eventually, somehow, number in the hundreds, their faces steadily blurring out of focus as the memory of the magic thins. Until the first of them, the one where the magic was born, stands before Weiss as little more than a featureless white shadow. Too far back for even the magic to remember clearly.

Before she can even react the figure steps towards her,  _through her_ , and snatches everything but her life away.

No one else could see what Weiss saw. Ironwood only notices the sound of her body collapsing to the pavement as Qrow and Ruby watch it happen all in the span of a second or two. Ruby stumbles, sputtering through trying to say several things at once. Qrow moves between his niece and Ironwood to scoop her up.

"Let me take her, Qrow."

"Just point me towards the car, Jimmy." Qrow shoulders out of his reach. Ironwood and Ruby fall in behind him. "How's Winter?"

"The medics couldn't say, but they should know something by the time we arrive."

Qrow only nods.

(--)

The push-and-pull of pain wakes her, though Weiss doesn't immediately open her eyes. Awareness doesn't startle her, she feels strangely...together. Her heart rate is level, almost sedate, there's a calm coolness about her, and though the pain should have been enough to garner at least a grunt of irritation, she stomachs it quietly with a crease forming between her brows. Her first deep breath is cold going in and out, but after that it no longer draws her attention.

"Weiss?"

She hones in on the soft inquiry like a moth to flame, somehow able to sense Ruby's presence as an almost staggering  _warmth_ . It coaxes her the rest of the way, convinces her to open her eyes. She blinks a few times, just to be sure she's actually seeing her friend sitting in a chair, albeit everything seems sideways.

"Miss Schnee, I'm Dr. Veena, can you hear me?"

She takes a breath, trying to keep hold of her focus. "I can."

"May I help you sit up?"

Part of her didn't really want to, it was strangely comfortable just lying here, but she eventually nods and lifts herself up at the beckoning of the doctor's hand beneath her head. The dizziness is brief, making her wobble just a little. Weiss clears her throat.

"I had to give you a few stitches, Miss Schnee." Dr. Veena continues. "The bullet grazed your cheek and passed through a portion of your ear. I wasn't willing to conduct reconstruction without your consent."

"It's fine, doctor, thank you." Weiss catches the stark contrast of bright red stains on her white shirt, the one she had been wearing under the black funerary coat.

"Are you in any pain?"

"Some...could I have something...not too strong?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The two girls watch the older woman leave before letting out a unified shrug. Weiss covers her face with her hands. Then, carefully with the tips of her fingers, touches the bandages on her face. "...This is actually happening."

Ruby swallows, lips tucked inward as she puts a hand to Weiss' scraped knee. She doesn't know what to say.

"Any word on Winter?"

"Uncle Qrow went to find out." Ruby's initial thought is to regale her with all the hot chaos that was going on out in the corridors about a half hour ago, but quickly decides against it. Still, what she  _had_ said wasn't a lie. "Weiss, we really tried to get here sooner."

"I know you did. I believe you." Weiss nods, sniffling a little as her hands wring together in her lap. "But...how did you know?"

"On my way to Haven I heard rumors about what happened to your dad." Ruby catches herself too late, seeing the hurt in Weiss' eyes. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, offering up a dismissive hand. "What exactly  _did_ you hear?"

"I-ah," she sputters at first, remembering the eavesdropping-garnered information from nearly a week ago, weighing whether or not she should repeat it.  _'Bout damn time someone took care of those Schnees._ "I mean, I know what the news said, but it sounded like  _they_ knew something  _else_ , you know?"

"Like they were privy to information no one else was."

"Maybe."

Weiss was thinking a mile a minute, thoughts shuddering through her mind in a blur. There were countless potential threats to the family, not just the company, most of them being competition. But there is a scant few who would actually resort to hiring an assassin to wipe them out  _personally._

"You think," Ruby whispers, "it was the White Fang?"

A slow cringe comes over Weiss' face, one hand moving to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I...don't know what I think. I just want to know if Winter is going to be all right."

Ruby nods once, standing up and offering her hand. "Come on, I'll walk with you."

For a moment she only stares. Then manages a little smile. "Thank you." When she takes Ruby's hand it's almost too tight.

Dr. Veena comes back into the room as Weiss eases out of the examination chair, the two girls pausing just long enough for her to take the little white pill for her pain and listen in passing to the doctor's warnings of drowsiness that might come along with it.

Out in the corridor, orderlies and nurses moving back and forth around them, Weiss finds herself still gripping Ruby's hand. She wants to hang on to that warmth she feels.

"I missed you." she says.

"M-missed you too." Ruby replies quickly. "I...I really am sorry about all this, Weiss. I know you and your dad weren't,"

Weiss shakes her head, stopping her. "Please, don't. I don't want to talk about it now."

"Sorry." she shrinks. Then Ruby thinks to ask how she's been doing, but stops herself. Chances are she didn't want to talk about that either, all things considered. Almost everything she thinks to ask she pulls back before the words form.

The combination of Ruby's silence and the winding spring of Weiss' patience urges the heiress to stop the next available hospital staff member and ask about Winter. The nurse is more than happy to show them to the nearest elevator and take them up to the next floor, and without a word the two young huntresses follow. Weiss' heart pinches in her chest, waiting, anxious. Ruby feels it too, in her aura, like hard bristles against her skin, and in how tightly Weiss still clutches her hand.

Turning the corner they see Qrow and Ironwood standing shoulder to shoulder, both addressing what had to be a surgeon, his turquoise scrubs and thick forearms spattered with dark copper stains. Ruby almost flinches at the sudden flex of Weiss' hand around her own, bordering on painful. But she doesn't try to pull away.

Ironwood is the first to move when the three men realize she's there, but Qrow shoves passed him much like before. He reaches them first and addresses Weiss with a little nod.

"What did he say?" Weiss asks before he can say a word.

"Winter's stable," he pauses, watching the younger Schnee exhale with relief, "but it's a delicate situation right now."

Weiss feels like crying, but for the first time today it isn't out of pain.

Qrow's brow knits. "Weiss, I really need to talk to you about some-"

"Miss Schnee, could I have a moment?"

"Could you wait one second, Jimmy, I'm-,"

"Excuse me, Mr. Branwen," Weiss speaks up, "I'll be more than willing to continue our conversation, but I hope you won't think me ill-mannered if I placate the general before he blows a vessel."

One sooty brow lifts, a little smirk trying at the edge of his mouth. "It's your ballgame now, princess. Be my guest. C'mon, Ruby, let's go find some trouble."

Ruby protests, tries to anyway, but doesn't fight when her uncle takes her by the arm. The second her hand leaves Weiss' grip, the heiress feels that warmth snatched away along with her. And just like that, Weiss feels herself change, her senses sharpening as the small hairs on her neck bristle. There is no sign of fatigue in her posture as she straightens her spine like a board, shoulders square, hands folded behind her.

"That was incredibly rude, general."

"Begging your pardon, Miss Schnee, but I feel as though propriety is secondary in regards to a situation as serious as this."

One snowy brow lifts as she restrains an indignant huff.

"I have taken the liberty of forming a task force to pursue the gunman, and the manor is being swept for evidence as we speak. Once you're ready there is an armed escort ready to take you to headquarters until it is deemed safe for you to return home."

"What about Winter?"

"She's currently in recovery, but I'll have a guard detail here around the clock."

For a moment she says nothing, perhaps processing everything. Though she can't help but focus on just how  _certain_ he sounds. Like he expects her to...just fall in line. In fact, that's  _exactly_ what he expects her to do. The muscles in her jaw bunch, her fingers wringing tight together behind her.

"I'm staying." she says. "Until I know Winter is safe, I'm not leaving this building. And I  _will not_ be going to headquarters. I intend to go home."

Ironwood clears his throat. "Miss Schnee, I understand it's been difficult for you, but-"

"You  _understand_ ? How could you possibly?"

He tries again. "Now isn't the time to let your emotions affect your decisions."

Her brows raise, eyes widening, severe. But her tone remains level. "I buried my father today, general, and while I have all faith in the staff at this hospital, I could still do the same for Winter. Never mind that I was nearly killed by someone perched on the balcony of my own bedroom," which she couldn't say for sure, but it was a powerful embellishment that wasn't a complete lie. "Perhaps you can't be bothered to show any emotion over any of that -which is fine by me- but I'll be  _damned_ if I let you stand there and dictate to me what actions are appropriate."

"Miss Schnee-,"

"I'm. Not. Finished." she catches on to the minute shudder in his frame, how he almost retreats. "We trusted you, general. You told us time and again, convinced Winter and I that we were perfectly safe under your watch, and  _this_ happens. Considering all of that, I'd say my reaction to the situation thus far has been more than acceptable."

He flinches again. "I was well within protocol an-,"

" _You will not interrupt me again_ , general." she cuts him off, hopefully for the last time. "And I'll not stomach your usual rhetoric in regards to protocol as I can't help but feel as though your strict adherence to it might be to blame for  _a number of things_ . It's to the point where I fear you may be forming a pattern, a pattern that has put my sister's life in jeopardy."

He looks like he wants to say something, gaze focused and lips pursed, but he remains silent.

"Now, I'll not have  _your_ men watching over her, not after today. I want specialists, and I want the best you have, preferably any you can spare from Winter's unit as I'm sure they would be willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her safe. They will be here within the hour or I will go and find them myself. And I can almost guarantee you won't want me to do that."

Ironwood waits, then he chances it. "With all due respect, Miss Schnee, you hardly have the authority to make these demands."

"But I do. I have controlling interest of the Schnee Dust Company, and while it may not be on paper, the military answers to me now."

"It is my understanding that your inheritance isn't in affect until midnight tonight."

Her icy eyes thin on him, the edge of a blade. Ironwood exhales, his breath visible as a wisp of steam. "I don't like making threats, but it's midnight somewhere,  _Jimmy_ , and my willingness -and ability- to protect Winter reaches  _much farther_ than your rank ever will. Am I understood?"

His expression jumps with shocked disgust, but only for a second. As quickly as it shifts it settles again into something neutral. Though it stabilizes, he can't hold her stabbing gaze for very long.

" _Well_ ?"

"Yes, Miss Schnee. Understood...if you'll excuse me." he leaves as quickly as he can without appearing to run.

When he's out of sight Weiss feels herself relax, deflate with a cool breath passing through the small circle of her lips. All the restrained feelings start swelling upward, threatening to overwhelm her, her knees threatening to give as they shake a little. She takes a deep breath to stabilize herself when she realize the surgeon is still there. He's been here the whole time, heard the entire exchange. He looks somewhat...to be honest, he looks terrified.

"I apologize for that, doctor...?"

"Satva, ma'am. And no apologies necessary, women do as they must -as my mother always says."

She almost smiles. "You performed Winter's surgery?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"First of all, I'd like to extend my deepest gratitude." she takes a few steps forward, heels clicking over tiles, and offers to shake his hand. "Secondly, how is she doing?"

"I believe I heard the hunter, he described the situation as delicate, which is plenty true. Your sister's heart sustained severe trauma," the bullet had pierced the upper left region of the organ, going straight through it to nestle near her spine. "But, as far as injuries of that nature are concerned, we were incredibly lucky. The entry and exit wounds were clean -like someone went through it with a hole-punch- and we were able to close them up with little difficulty. She  _is_ stable, but her condition is still considered critical."

Weiss nods slowly, another breath working in and out. "How soon before I can see her?"

"Hours yet, but I'll make sure you're notified once she's out of recovery."

"Thank you again, doctor. I can't...I'm in your debt."

He blushes a little, smiling in an almost stupid way. "My pleasure, ma'am. Is there anything else you need? Though, if I may be so bold as to suggest some bed rest,"

She nods again, grinning in spite of herself. "It's on my list, but I won't keep you any longer." And the two of them part with a nod, he going about his work while she accepts the gut-wrenching need to either find the nearest cup of coffee or disappear. Preferably both.

 

The hospital commissary is on the ground floor, the elevator ride down disturbingly quiet. Weiss knows she shouldn't be going anywhere alone right now, at least the little voice in her head was telling her so, but she didn't much care. Besides, hours after an assassination attempt on her family, the entire building is crawling with security, the only place safer than this would be a casket. She shivers at the thought.

Weiss feels that warmth again when she catches sight of Qrow and Ruby, silver eyes meeting hers almost the instant she enters the room full of tables and chairs. When she moves to stand up Weiss offers a hand gesture, convincing her to stay put with a nod, silent intent to be there momentarily. She eventually joins them with the largest cup of coffee available, grabbing the glass container on the table full of sugar and upending it over the beverage. She won't speak until after her first sip.

"Now, Mr. Branwen, what was it you needed to speak to me about?"

Qrow smiles for a moment, his teeth flashing between his lips. "You rolled Jimmy pretty hard, didn't you?"

"I only told him what he  _needed_ to hear instead of what he  _wanted_ ." she tilts her head with a little tuck of her chin. "So?"

"Did you speak to the surgeon?"

"Briefly."

"What did he tell you?"

She recites the doctor's words almost verbatim and with a textbook reading tone.

"...He didn't tell you that Winter flat-lined for two minutes."

Weiss feels her insides tighten up, tension snapping through her like a sprung trap. She shuts her eyes, her cup pausing just in front of her mouth before she follows through with the motion. A knee-jerk attempt to squash any visible reactions. "But...she's going to be all right, won't she? The doctor said she was stable."

"You're right." he nods slowly. "But what happened to your sister is still a big part of what I'm about to say. First, I have a question for you; you ever heard the story of the Four Maidens?"

"It's been...some time." years in fact. Not since she was little, before she ever picked up a sword.

"Do you remember the basic gist of it?"

"I do."

"Well what if I told you it wasn't just a story? What if I told you it was real?"

She opens her eyes, sliding them to look at the older man sitting in her peripheral. "I'd say you need another drink."

"That's true, regardless," he chuckles, resisting the urge to reach for his flask. It could wait. "But that's what I'm saying. It is real, and I've seen a Maiden with my own eyes. More than one, in fact."

Weiss turns her head, gaze still scathing but slightly skewed with confusion. "That's absurd."

"Ruby's seen one too, haven't you?"

His niece straightens, her features stretching. "I...n-no?"

"You have." he assures her. "And so have you, Weiss."

"You're out of your mind." she bites back, taking a a pair of heavy gulps of hot coffee, thinking the sting would clear her head, make her wake up from whatever sick nightmare this day had turned into. "It's just a fairy tale."

"Then that makes all of us a bunch of pixie dust, kid, but it doesn't change the fact of things."

"Weiss," Ruby tries gently, "I know it doesn't seem like it, but Uncle Qrow knows what he's talking about. Please try."

She catches Ruby's pleading gaze, uncertainty creasing her own brow. "I," she's feeling overwhelmed again. "...I don't understand."

"You do, you just don't believe." Qrow clears his throat. "Winter was the same way when I talked to her about this."

"About what?"

"You know what. Do I need to come out and say it?"

" _Yes_ ."

"You were the last person on Winter's mind when her heart stopped, and it stopped long enough for the magic to go looking for its new host. I suspected it the minute I saw you collapse in the street." And all of this he says with the casual air of a mundane discussion of the daily news. All the while he meets her gaze with the most sober expression someone like him can manage. "I think you've inherited the powers of a Maiden, Weiss. In fact, I know, 'cause I can see it in your eyes." He's had enough opportunity and knows what to look for, seeing the same nuances to the color in the girl's eyes he had noticed in Winter's. Among the deep, resonating and natural blue of Weiss' eyes is this new, opalescent shimmer, rainbow slivers that catch the light.

That is the straw that breaks the camel's back. She can't take any more, but the devolution of her composure isn't immediate. She scowls at Qrow initially, perhaps trying to hide the rising burn of tears in her eyes. Then she gives her coffee her full attention, trying to take another sip but unable to. What remains of it has frozen in the cup, she even turns it upside down for a second to make sure she wasn't seeing things. She puts the cup down carefully, as if the plastic vessel would break, her face slowly scrunching. Then she covers her face with her hands and begins to cry.

Assuming control of a multinational company, her father's funeral, Winter being shot and nearly dying, herself almost assassinated - _all in one day_ ...now this. She's only eighteen for heaven's sake. This is too damn much.

Qrow turns to his niece. "I'm gonna step out for a bit, okay? Keep an eye on her, and I mean that."

Ruby nods and watches him leave, swallowing down her own anxiety. Once she can't see him anymore her eyes fall on Weiss, her heart clenching at the sight of her. She follows her first instinct to stand up and move around the table. She puts a hand on her shoulder, unsure just how receptive Weiss would be to anything more than that. Imagine her surprise when Weiss twists at the waist and wraps her arms around Ruby's middle, tight as a vice, tight enough to force some of the air out of her. For a moment they stay this way, Weiss sobbing into her stomach and not caring at all. Then her fingers hook into Ruby's clothes, pulling downward until the younger huntress is on her knees and she can hug her around the neck.

"I'm s-so glad you're here," she sputters, trying but unable to pull herself together. "I've been so  _alone_ ."

Ruby holds on, arms folding across Weiss' shuddering shoulders, her head tucking into the crook of Weiss' neck. She doesn't know what to say, if she should say anything, so she resigns to just be here. Be here for her.

Out in the hallways, walking with no real purpose, Qrow taps on his scroll, partly surprised to find that he has reception. It's been months since the tower at Beacon fell, and while reconstruction was said to be going well, communication between scrolls had been touch and go. He fishes through his not so numerous contacts, lingering on a few faces before finding the one he's thinking of. He doesn't dial the number, but brings up the menu to send a text. He chicken-pecks the message with one finger. Qrow sends the message along then shoves the device back in its pocket. Half way across the world, to the south in one of Vale's many forests, Glynda Goodwitch receives a message that makes her almost spit her coffee across her desk.

_Winter is never late._

 

 

Author's Note: I swear I know what I'm doing. It feels like forever since I've been able to produce something that feels as good as this does. It's been...easily years so please, whatever criticism you have, be gentle. I'm open for discussion and correction, so long as its presented to me in an acceptable manner. And here's to hoping I've kept these girls in character so far.

 


	3. Chapter Two

She wasn't about to leave Winter's bedside, not after waiting half the night just to see her. Weiss would spend the night coiled up in a chair, somehow having slept in spite of looking hideously uncomfortable. Her head and shoulders are propped on the edge of the hospital bed, arms folded and acting as her pillow. The rest of her body stretches a small gap between the bed and the chair she inhabits, hips tilted and legs tucked up as tight as they can be. She slept like this the entire night, not moving an inch.

Ruby would check in on her every so often, her uncle having convinced her to give Weiss a little space. Around midnight she slipped into the room, unable to stand being too far from her friend. She sits on the floor after grabbing a spare pillow from the small closet in the corner, making that her bed for the rest of the night. But unlike Weiss she rolls and tosses like clockwork, somehow managing herself beneath and between the legs of the chair where she finally settles, her cape acting as a blanket.

The sun is up when Qrow pushes through the door, both trying and not trying to be too quiet. He smiles to himself at the sight of them, feeling something familiar for a moment. But seeing Winter like this kills the expression. With a little care he approaches the bed and cups Weiss' shoulder with one hand, giving her a little push.

"Hey, time to wake up."

It doesn't take much to make her stir, one deep breath expanding her chest as her shoulder blades crest in a restrained stretch. She lifts her head and turns to look at him, her eyes red like she has been crying all night. "Yes, Mr. Branwen?"

"Mornin'." he greets in a rough whisper. "Ruby and I are going to escort you home."

"Oh. All right." Her back pops several times as she straightens and yawns.

Qrow takes a step back, giving her room to shift and start putting on her shoes. He angles his neck to look under the chair at the heap of crimson and black, tapping Ruby's boot with his own. "C'mon, squirt."

A muffled grumble is the response he receives, Ruby jerking her hood tight over her head before going still again. He kicks a little harder, getting a squeak out of her this time.

"Get up, Ruby, I need you to walk me home." Weiss adds, her tone only a little demanding, a wince working across her face as she feels a sharp thud underneath her.

"'Kay."

Qrow laughs to himself.

"I intend to come back here once I've had a chance to...regroup." Weiss says as she stands up.

"I thought you would." the older hunter nods. "Here, I managed to sneak this out for you."

Slight surprise lifts her brows as Qrow presents Myrtenaster to her. Weiss takes the sword with little hesitation, belting it in its usual place around her waist with practiced precision.

"I'd suggest you keep that on you until the assassin's been caught, but I'm sure I don't have to."

"Indeed."

"And you can expect Ruby and I to stay close by."

She nods. "Better the two of you than Ironwood."

"Okay, I'm ready." Ruby finally stands up, pushing her unruly mess of hair into something resembling presentable. Though a shock of red hair stands rebelliously outward from her forehead, which Weiss takes upon herself to rectify. Ruby's little blush and smile is enough to lift the heiress' mood a little. The three of them file out of the room, Weiss lingering just long enough to cast one last worried look over her shoulder. They'll stop only once more before leaving the hospital, Weiss wanting to meet the head of Winter's security detail, a specialist that introduces herself as Operative Holiday and appears to wear the holsters for her twin pistols backwards. In spite of that Weiss felt strangely confident that her sister was in the best hands.

A white sedan is waiting at the emergency entrance, the location favored for the heavy masonry outcropping that thoroughly obscures any shots that might have been taken at them. Ruby slides in on the far side, Weiss becoming sandwiched between her and Qrow so she couldn't be seen through the windows. The ride is a quiet one, the hum of the engine the only sound. Weiss finds Ruby's hand between them, fingers lacing tightly together as her aura scrambles for the warmth. Ruby quietly reciprocates, offering just a little, understanding smile, unaware of their shared thought.

_How I've missed us_ .

The car will park at the rear of the manor, the distance between the curb and the door much shorter than it is at the main gate, less opportunity for a shooter to line up a scope. Qrow gets out first, scanning the rooftops before gesturing with his hand for the girls to do the same. It's a brisk walk to the door and only a brief second of stillness before they push their way inside.

Weiss doesn't anticipate the resounding silence they find in the kitchen, half expecting for employees to be going about their usual routines in spite of all that happened yesterday. Likely the entirety of the manor staff was being questioned at this very moment.

"Help yourselves if you're hungry," she says in passing.

"Hm, nice looking liquor cabinet." Qrow hums.

"Except for that." her eyes thin on the back of his head, the glare intensifying slightly when he laughs.

"But in all honesty, Weiss, I don't think we should trust a crumb in this place. No offense."

"None taken." she knows well enough what he means, realizing quickly how right he could be.

Coming into the main room of the house, Weiss doesn't miss Ruby's little astonished gasp, though she resists the urge to smile about it.

"Still can't believe they make houses this big," Ruby says quietly.

"I know this is your home, Weiss, but we shouldn't stay any longer than we have to." Qrow is scanning the massive room as he walks and talks, looking for anything out of place.

"I understand. I'll be quick." Not much longer than it would take for her to change clothes. The blood stains on her shirt are stiff and brown and she's been fighting the grinding itch to rip it off her body for what feels like forever. "My room's on the second floor."

The three of them take the sprawling staircase together. As they walk among countless tapestries and portraits lining the long corridor Qrow makes an effort to constantly move around them, straying from any pattern or staying in one place for too long. If the assassin was somehow  _inside_ this house somewhere, he intended to be in their way.

When they reach Weiss' room, as much as he doesn't like the feeling of it, Qrow lets Ruby take point, his heart in his throat as she moves through the door. He's waiting for something to happen, but lets out a quiet breath when nothing does.

"Be quick." is all he says, remaining in the hallway.

Even in her own room Weiss can't find it in her to relax. This place had once been her sanctuary, now it's just another space to uncomfortably occupy. She observes the great bay windows on the far side of the room with wariness, refusing to linger on the gut wrenching anxiety too long. She starts in on her wardrobe, shoving the hangars aside with a clatter as she starts pulling shirts free from them.

"There's a backpack under my bed, would you mind getting it?"

"Yeah." Ruby nods once and moves to the bed, easily the biggest bed she's ever laid eyes on. She won't put her back completely to the windows as she kneels down, tossing up the edge of the blanket to have a look. "Found it."

"Can I just toss you a few things?"

"Sure you ca-," as she stands up Ruby gets a blouse to the face.

Weiss almost laughs. "Sorry."

Ruby giggles a little, mouth moving to say something as she pulls the garment away and reaches to put it in the bag. But she pauses, heat rushing up into her cheeks when she realizes that Weiss is shirtless. Ruby quickly looks away as she continues dressing down, shoving the blouse into the bag.

Weiss began the task of changing with hurry, but halfway through started to slow to a pace more casual, just as something seemed to buzz at the back of her mind. It's a feeling similar to the sensation of Ruby's presence, but not entirely the same. It's a presence she doesn't feel drawn to as she did to Ruby. As she buttons up a clean shirt and reaches for a coat in her wardrobe she processes it, tries to identify it without telegraphing any awareness of the change. As she pulls on a more casual pair of shoes she distinguishes just how  _close_ it feels to her, much closer than Ruby. Within arm's reach even, and it makes the small hairs on her neck bristle.

"Just a couple more things." she says in passing, moving into the bathroom and leaving the door open to be sure Ruby could keep an eye on her. She only stalls for a moment, catching notice of the copper smudges in her hair just behind her ear. It could wait. She snatches a small nylon travel bag from the counter and moves back into the bedroom. She tosses it to Ruby, hoping she'll catch it but not watching as she grabs a last few items from the wardrobe.

It's when Weiss has her back to it that she feels something  _odd_ , something that rubs her the wrong way and feels like fine grain sandpaper against her aura -deeper than even that. Her hands stop, hovering just over the open backpack. Ruby catches her eyes, thinking to stop herself but keeps moving when Weiss shakes her head, a gesture almost too small to see. Instead she continues putting clothes in the bag, albeit slower, her eyes now focusing on the way Weiss' left hand moves towards Myrtenaster.

"Weiss," she whispers, feeling her heart starting to hammer against her ribs.

She doesn't speak, the tips of her fingers starting around her sword's handle. This was going to be the quickest draw of her life. Or the last one.

One slow, even breath, her exhale cold and emerging as mist. Then she moves, everything else around her seeming to slow to a stop. Absolute zero.

It's over in a second, if even that. Weiss feels the cold whip of air moving around her face, her eyes focused on the tip of the weapon just before it appears to do little more than put a hole through her wall. But she  _feels_ the weight of something as it clutches around the blade.

Qrow shoves through the door at the sound, sword in hand. "The hell was that?!" And for a moment all he can do is stare.

Weiss's face is set in a firm grimace, her body locked in a perfect lunge position. When she retracts all eyes are on the end of the blade, flawless steel now glazed bright red. In the corner where the wardrobe meets the wall something solid ripples into view. The three of them feel the shudder of a depleted aura as a dark and humanoid silhouette forms and slumps to the floor, and while there had been no flash and flux of Dust from the weapon, all of them can clearly see the ice crystals springing up from the head-of-a-pin sized wound in the person's chest. Weiss hears their death rattle and that's when the horror sets in. It didn't seem to matter that they had a gun, a pistol in one hand and a rather cruel looking knife in the other or a long rifle strapped to their back. It didn't cross her mind that whoever they were had most likely hidden out in here for the sole purpose of killing her, likely was the one who shot Winter and orchestrated her father's death. _She had just taken someone's life_.

Qrow pushes between Weiss and the body, Ruby coming up behind her and pulling her back a couple of uneven steps. Weiss watches Qrow pull back a hood and scarf to reveal a man's face, initially looking like he was covered in tattoos that look like tiger stripes. Then she sees his eyes, amber and black slitted, and realizes they aren't tattoos at all. He was a faunus. Her body tightens up, hands curling into trembling fists.

"What the," having tipped back the man's head, Qrow finds an actual tattoo on the soft part where his neck and jaw met. It looks like a chess piece, the black queen to be specific. He looks back at Weiss. "How did you know he was there?"

"I," she almost can't speak, her thoughts fractured. "I...I f-felt him."

But now she feels nothing. Not even Ruby's warmth.

 

_(II)_

He knows she tries. Every day she tries. And he helps. He helps by sleeping at the foot of her bed, by following her around the house even into the bathroom when she brushes her teeth and her hair and when she showers -the last of which being because he likes hot baths. He helps by rubbing against her leg when she's trying to cook, and responding with little  _boofs_ when she talks to herself. 

Zwei helps by tugging on the leg of Yang's pants when she's been on the couch too long, convincing her to take him for a walk whether rain or shine. He runs off with her shoes so she'll chase him to the point of being almost genuinely angry, anything to make her feel something other than distant. He sprawls across her chest when she sleeps and licks her face, making sure she wakes after sunup to help her maintain a pattern.

In the beginning all these things meant nothing. She rarely left her room, much less her bed, and seemed some form of content to just stare out the window and watch the seasons change. It hurt Zwei to feel like he couldn't do anything for her, couldn't do anything to make little sister stay, but it didn't stop him from trying. Zwei starts with little things, waking her up every morning with a couple of barks, pulling the blanket off the bed to drive the point home. He would bring her a hairbrush -he had to climb the toilet to reach it- nudging it against her hand until she picks it up. He shoves his metal bowl around the house when he is hungry, hoping against hope that Yang will feed him -going so far as to run away from Tai if he tries to do it. Eventually he is able to get her out of her room by yapping his head off as if he needed to go out, she was the only one home so she had no choice.

Some days weren't so easy, but Zwei is patient. Some days Yang is just too sad or too angry to do much more than sleep. Those days he let her have, though not without regularly trotting into the bedroom to look in on her or to bring her one of his toys in hopes of cheering her up. A gesture that she accepts in time. It isn't until near the end of the summer following the loss of her arm that Yang starts venturing outside. Zwei would walk her along the game trails around the house, sometimes taking her to town especially after one of her bad days, and always makes sure she is home again before or just after dark so Tai doesn't worry.

When Yang starts leaving the house -or tries to- alone, Zwei is more worried than happy. He knows big sister is big enough, but he still obeys the instinct to follow her. He doesn't like that she keeps going to the same place, a bar called the Skid Mark, almost as much as he doesn't like how it smells -smoke, vomit, and cheap beer. Still he stays near by, keeping watch from beneath Yang's chair, growling when anyone other than a server gets close. After several visits the bartender starts calling him ankle biter. Zwei does his best to convince Yang to leave before she has too much to drink, usually succeeding.

The more they visit the bar, the more Zwei begins to dislike one of the servers. He doesn't like the way she smells, the way she's too happy to give Yang any drink she asks for, and if dogs could swear he would do just that in regards to his certainty that the petite woman's eyes changed color when she blinked. He tries to tell big sister all about it, but for some reason she just couldn't understand plain Corgi. He tries to bite the waitress once, receiving a swat on the nose for it.

 

Yang likes the attention, it lets a little warmth settle in her chest while the heat of the alcohol settles in her head. She likes how the much smaller woman wordlessly offers her a dance every now and then, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her out of her seat, supporting her if her buzz makes her wobble a little. And she  _loves_ how she perches on her thigh -intentionally her left one- after she sits back down, a slender arm lining across Yang's shoulders as she leans into her. The server's skirt is just short enough to draw her gaze as well as her remaining hand. The feather light kisses on her temple send little shocks through her as her own lips are kept busy with drinks. Yang weighs the possibility of taking her home every time her head tips back to swallow a shot.

This is why she keeps coming back, not for the liquor but for the illusion of feeling normal, undamaged. Like there was finally someone who could look at her and not cringe or wither with pity. Here she didn't miss her sister or feel the bubbling fury of impotence and Blake's broken promise. Here everything is okay with this mute woman in her lap and the burn of whiskey in her mouth. So it's easy to ignore the cautionary growls and yips from under her chair.

Yang's heated haze fragments, eyes snapping open when she hears the door of the bar smack against the wall, thrown open by an overenthusiastic patron as he leaves. She just manages to hear the scramble of blunt little claws against floor before seeing Zwei bolt out of the opening with a single bark. She grumbles a little, the sound rough and gravelly at the back of her throat.

"Guess that's my cue," she slurs a little. "I better go, sweet cheeks."

The waitress silently pouts.

"Don't look at me like that." Yang sucks down one last shot. "How about you come with me? I'm gonna need help walking home...we could get lost in the woods together if you want. I can show you my favorite stump," her lilac eyes slant to the right, "okay, second favorite."

The server smiles, teeth flickering between pale, peach painted lips. One hand gathers a fistful of blond hair to pull on, tugging Yang into a deep, open mouth kiss. They part with a smile, the waitress tracing the line of her nose with one finger before sliding out of her lap. She gestures towards the bar, a sign Yang understood.

Yang chuckles, hiccuping. "Go ahead and grab your things, by the time you get back I might be standing."

She offers up one last smirk and a toss of her long hair behind her before disappearing behind the counter for a brief second. All she retrieves is a silk and lace parasol. She walks with it, one hand curled over the hooked handle, the metal tip clicking on the floorboards in time with her casual pace. Her eyes are fixed on Yang, smirking as the girl wobbles in an attempt to stand. Once she knows she's close enough, she lifts the parasol into her other hand, gripping the handle and giving it a tug. No one seems to notice the bright, silvery glint of the steel stiletto that emerges. That smirk stretches wider with every step, anxious anticipation for the split second it's going to take to put the weapon through her to the hilt. Just one. Quick. _Twist._

Just as her arm drifts back, body tensing, a sharp spike of pain crackles up her other arm. Her head jerks in that direction, heterochromatic eyes zeroing in on Zwei now hanging from her wrist by his teeth. She raises the weapon with the intent to strike him, but freezes at the loud punctuations of buckshot striking the wall a little closer to her head than she likes. That's when the bar erupts with noise, patrons staggering away from their tables and out of the line of fire. Yang tries to gather herself but only manages to stumble over her own chair.

"Go ahead, give me a reason," Qrow dares, gun in hand, leveled with an itchy finger on the trigger.

Neo glares at the red eyed, poorly shaven hunter, brow knit tight enough to hurt with a mixture of pain and silent fury. Her eyes move from him to Ruby at his left and then to Weiss on his right. Her jaw tightens, frustrated at the sight of all the people she wanted to kill in the same room. As much as she wants to, now simply isn't the time or place. Her only choice is to disappear, which she does in a bright shimmer of platinum light, leaving only Zwei behind. The dog falls on his back, wriggling until he rights himself.

Ruby shoulders around her uncle and jumps over the toppled chair to reach her sister. Zwei quickly follows, scrambling around with a preamble of barks. Yang opens her eyes to see a spinning ceiling, blurred shapes spilling into view after a moment.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

She blinks, pulling a sweaty hand down her face. "Ruby? What are you doing here? I thought you...had things to do."

"I know, and this is one of those things." Ruby smiles at her. "Come on, let's get you home."

"I want another drink."

"Not tonight, firecracker." Qrow steps over, holstering his weapon. "We've gotta talk."

"I don't want to talk. I want another drink." Yang repeats with a groan as she sits up, her stomach suddenly feeling too full.

"No, Yang, we need to-,"

"You need to fuck off."

Ruby pales, recoiling, stunned by the words and the severity of Yang's caustic scowl. Even Zwei backs away from her. Yang teeters to her knees, shoving Ruby in the chest, putting her little sister on her backside when she tries to help. "Should've just left it alone," she mutters just above a whisper, too slurred for the others to make out. Qrow reaches for his niece when she's close enough only to have his hand swatted away.

Weiss steps in front of her, arms crossed, back straight, face neutral. Yang stares back at her for a second or two, then steps aside. Weiss blocks her again. Yang steps the other way to a similar result, her expression darkening. "Move."

"Tell Ruby you're sorry."

" _Move_ ." A ring of red forms around the lavender in her eyes.

" _No_ ."

Yang bends at the waist, slowly closing the gap between them until they are nose to nose. "Why don't you do us a favor and just run back home to  _daddy_ ?"

Weiss swallows the anger, refusing to let it to show. She reminds herself that Yang has been through a lot, just as much as herself, and has been shouldering a lot of pain all alone. True, that may very well have been Yang's choice, but not entirely. She takes a deep, stabilizing breath through her nose. "I'm not leaving, and I'm certainly not moving from this spot until you stop showing your ass."

One marigold brow spikes. "And I suppose you're gonna make me?"

"If you leave me no other choice...then yes. I will."

Yang snorts. "Punk-ass little princess," and grabs her upper arm.

"Oi, take it outside!" The bartender cries.

Yang turns her head to give the old man a dirty look, finding Ruby shoulder to shoulder with Weiss when she turns back. She's disgusted by the look on her face, that pained and pitying look Yang is so sick of seeing on everyone that ever looked her way. "Get out of my way."

"Yang," Weiss resists the initial urge to tear free from her grip, and instead smooths her hand over Yang's. "I wish I could change what happened, there's so much I would have done differently...but that's not why we're here."

"I don't care why you're here."

"Please, Yang," Ruby insists gently. She watches her sister's face, seeing a flicker of change when she puts one of her hands over Weiss' without even thinking.

"We're here because it's not over yet. What happened at Beacon was just the beginning of something else. Something bigger than us. Ruby and I...we need you."

Yang's lip trembles slightly, a tell almost too small to see. She shuts it down and covers it up with an awkward smirk. "Then take Zwei, at least he's in one piece."

"No, Yang." Weiss shakes her head. "Even though...Zwei is ten times cuter and less smelly than you," seriously, the odor of whiskey is threatening to make her sick, " _you're_ my friend.  _You're_ the one I can trust with my life...because  _you_ are the best fighter I know."

A bitter chuckle rattles up. "Flattery doesn't get you where it used to with me, Weiss."

"Well I'm not going to kiss your ass, if that's what you're expecting." her face scrunches a little.

"I'm not asking you to, but...what do you expect me to say? What do you expect me to do?"

"Let me help, I don't care what I have to do, just  _let me_ do something!" Weiss almost begs, using her free hand to dig around her clothes and present her scroll. "I have the finest engineers in Atlas on  _speed dial_ , I can have a prosthetic ready in a week if necessary!"  _Whatever it takes for me to stop feeling so helpless. Whatever it takes for Ruby to stop crying._

For a long moment Yang just looks at her, maybe searching for something disingenuous in her face, maybe just trying to take all of this in. Either of which would be a hell of a lot easier to do if she was sober.

"And we think they're actively hunting us. This wasn't random." Ruby adds when the quiet drags on too long for her to stand. "Whoever brought down Beacon is targeting us now, they've already tried to kill Weiss and her sister, and that means Blake is in danger too."

Lavender eyes redden further as they settle on Ruby. "Where do I sign up?"

"You're going home first, missy." Qrow cuts in. "You're gonna dry up and then we're all gonna sit down with your dad and talk, alright?"

Yang laughs, a heated puff of air that actually sounds genuine. "That's a helluva thing coming from  _you_ , Uncle Qrow."

He tilts his head and inches his shoulders, conceding. "Just because  _I'm_ a functioning alcoholic doesn't mean I think you should be too."

Another little chuckle coupled with a nod. "I'm sorry, Ruby...I'm really happy to see you."

No words in response, just a sniffle as she throws herself at Yang, hanging on her neck and hugging as tightly as she can. Not wanting her to feel left out, Yang gestures with her hand for Weiss to join in.

It's been ten months since she last hugged them. The reality of the separation crashes down on her like a ton of bricks, the impact rippling through her as she tucks her head against Ruby's neck and lets herself cry.

 

_(III)_

A touch of Winter came early and gnaws its way through the forests of northern-most Vale, the cold slamming into the region with a freak blizzard the night before. The heavy blackness and rank and file of dormant trees are stark against the pristine snow that weighs down evergreen branches and clots root beds. No road cuts through this part of the forest, leaving the place with a remote sort of wildness about it, and all game trails are hidden.

Something waits in the higher boughs of a massive evergreen, more so someone, perched on the balls of her feet with hands curled around the branch for balance. Her fingers are red with the cold like her cheeks and nose, steady breaths curl outward in a mist with every near-silent exhale. Amber and black-slitted eyes scan the forest floor, wary of any movement as her feline ears move back and forth atop her head in search of sound. She blends in almost perfectly, a long white coat breaking up the outline of her black clothes, long black hair obscuring the shape of her face. If anyone were to see her they wouldn't know what they were looking at, certainly not quickly enough to react to her presence before she disappeared.

Blake has spent months in and out of wilds like these. In the beginning it was with the intent to disappear completely, a time to recover and collect herself, decipher what she was supposed to do after having so much ripped out from under her. And it was easy at first; make herself scarce, keep a distance from everyone and everything she cared about to keep them from harm. But as time went on things became steadily more complicated. Running away stopped being so simple somewhere along the way. So, after a turbulent period of self-examination, she decided running was no longer an option. Instead she would hunt, hone her skills to a fine edge, and find her way back to where the nightmare began and ended.

A path that finally brings her here, to this forest where rumors in the nearest town whispered of the White Fang. And not just them, but their leader.

Blake sees it before she hears anything, the slits of her eyes fluxing as a shock of red hair peeps over the snow like blood on a dove's breast. Slowly, carefully, she cranes her neck to watch the continued movement and her ears pick up on muffled footsteps. The muscles in her back steadily tighten as he comes into view, Adam Taurus and his sole attendant, another faunus with a long, gray and spotted tail swinging behind him. For a brief, tense moment she wonders what he's doing out here, but that is quickly overwhelmed by the fact that his reason doesn't matter.

Adam Taurus isn't a man who looks over his shoulder. He is always aware of his surroundings, aware of when they change, how they change, and in complete control. But today is different. Today he feels a distinct itch running through the small hairs on his neck. Initially he thinks nothing of it, performing his usual check of his environment with his ears and sniff of the air. Nothing has changed, nothing except the intensity of the buzzing in his skin. The first time he breaks his own rule he looks over his shoulder, not too quickly, and finds his attendant gone. The only thing left of him was the dark spaces of where his shoes had been. He feels a ripple of heat work through him, his heart rate spiking just a little, no higher than he would allow it. He continues on his path, one hand drifting to Wilt and Blush, one finger floating over the trigger.

Adam pauses again, looking for the second time when he picks up on the distinct impact of something heavy in the snow. He doesn't see what fell, only the clumps of snow tumbling from the higher branches after it, but he doesn't really have to see. He knows. Only a fool couldn't realize what was happening. His aura prickles along his body, ready, and he starts to move again.

"A fine day for a walk in the woods, my darling." he says aloud. "A fine day to kill you." he says to himself. "Remember the first time we walked in the forest together?"

Blake remains still in her hiding place, a tight shudder moving across the back of her mind. She bites her tongue against an anxious surge in her stomach, her eyes screwing shut and her ears taking responsibility for tracking his movements. The knuckles of one hand whiten around Gambol Shroud, the other clenching in the snow. Not because he seems to know she's here, it's because she will _always remember_. Though she would bet every last red Lien she has that her recollection of that night is nothing like his.

"It was beautiful. So were you." he continues, scanning through the trees. "I'm still willing to give that back to you, Blake. I've had time to think it over and have decided you're worth it. It's what you want, isn't? Otherwise, why would you be here?"

He's close to her now, her ears flicker at the static of his presence. The only thing separating them is a mound of snow and earth.

"It's not like you have anywhere else to go. The White Fang has been your only family. _I_ am the one who really loves you."

Her stomach twists into a knot.

Then he growls "Not that bimbo _gimp_ I let you run off with."

 _You're not going to fall for that, he's baiting you. You're better than that._ And all the while the muscles in her jaw clench hard enough to make her molars creak. But she waits, she knows she _has to wait_. Wait until he's not so close...

Adam takes a collection of casual steps and then stops, half turning to look back the way he came. He _knows_ she's here, knows the gossamer ripple of her aura as well as he knows his own. And he knows if he stands still long enough, it will convince Blake that she can actually ambush him, convince her she can kill him. That's when she'll show herself and he'll put her in her place like he always has.

"Come back to the Fang, Blake... come back to me. I'll stop hunting them, I promise."

But taking Adam Taurus at his word is like shaking hands with the devil himself. And Blake knows that. _Just wait._

Adam waits...waits...maybe she lost her nerve after all...

He sees a blur of white in the corner of his eye, a flicker of movement that draws his gaze and his reaction. Wilt cuts the air almost too quick to see, striking the object. Cold spray swats his cheek. It was just a snowball. And it's a millisecond after his mind processes the absurdity of it that he feels a hard, pinpoint impact against his forehead forcing his neck to bend so sharply it hurts.

The mask falls away from his face, now split in two. Adam half stumbles, refusing to be knocked off his feet as his knees bend. Wilt flickers from the saya again, sweeping in a circle around him as he spots something out of place in his peripheral. His face twists into a snarl when the image ripples and fades -a shadow clone- blood from the small wound at his hairline pulling into the savage lines that form around his mouth. Manic, damning black irises cut over the snow and through the trees, finding nothing out of place. He forces his breathing to level out once his mind registers the thrumming of his heart.

Blake can't let him have the time he needs to regroup, not when she feels she has the upper hand. If he's able to focus then she won't have a chance in hell, her only option is to keep the pressure on him until he breaks. She will sacrifice two more clones before moving on him directly, and her first attempt draws more blood, a fresh red stripe on his arm. She nimbly moves from place to place, just keeping ahead of the fire star flicker of Wilt, only reaching out to strike him when there's no chance for him to parry. She won't allow his blade to make impact with even her own, wary of giving him any sort of advantage. Being so close takes away some his drawing power; he tries to release Wilt only to have the sword shoved back in its place with a well timed shove of her boot on his wrist. _Keep moving, always moving, never stop, never make room for him to-_

Adam works against her, spinning counterclockwise to her clockwise steps and smacking her soundly in the jaw with the back of his hand. But she follows through with the momentum, knees bending as she makes a complete circle, soles of her shoes loosely gripping the snow-slick ground. As she faces him again she pushes upward, leaving the ground in congress with an upward swipe of Gambol Shroud. His aura shimmers with the solid shrike, Adam wincing behind it. Blake tucks her legs under her, leaning back, leaving a shadow clone at the top of her jump and watching the afterimage of Wilt cut through it. She then extends both legs as hard as she can, landing her heels into the soft, giving flesh of his pelvis. Blake immediately scrambles to her feet after landing on her back, not bothering to watch him fly through the air and bounce off the top of a large stone concealed in the snow. In a blur of motion she jumps the same stone, but goes up into the trees.

Adam rolls head over heels a long way down an embankment, his head smacking on half exposed roots and rocks before he skids to a stop at the bottom. The dull ringing in his head is coupled with the sound of running water, a creek bubbling through this part of the forest. Adam spits, dirt in his mouth, and quickly finds his feet. More on instinct than intent he draws Blush, hearing the snap of branches over his head. He unleashes a wild volley of shots, eyes and barrel following falling clumps of disturbed snow. Evergreens shudder and break apart, the top of one exploding in a shower of slivers and splinters, ravens scattered from their nests.

Blake drops back to the forest floor, using the continuing shots to hide her footsteps as she backtracks several yards. She swallows hard as she breaks out from between the trees, sliding down the bank and breaking into a full sprint once she's on level ground again. She pushes herself as hard as she can, trying to take advantage of being -for the moment- in his blind spot. When Adam inevitably turns his head towards her, she grips Gambol Shroud's silk tether and sends the blade flying with a pull of the trigger. Adam is quick enough to tame Wilt and Blush to his side, just leaning back little more than an inch to allow the weapon to fly passed his face. His black eyes cut into her as he snatches the tether and gives a hard _yank_

 _Do everything he doesn't expect._ The adage flutters through her mind and she bites her tongue, returning his gaze with a defiant one of her own as she forces herself to _let go_. Now she draws the heavier half of her weapon, tucking it behind her along the line of her arm. Her lips part into a ferocious snarl, the slits of her eyes paper thin, and she swings with every ounce of strength she can summon, aiming for his hands as they drift towards his sword.

Wilt and Blush spin through the air still joined, both faunus watching with a degree of shock. Adam ignores the crackling pain in his knuckles to reach for them. Blake spins around mid-stride and throws Gambol's heavy sheath into the air, colliding with the other weapon with a spark of light and casting them far out of their owners' reach. Blake hits the ground rolling, letting her momentum carry her through a backwards roll and onto her feet again. She settles in a low crouch, ready, cold-reddened fingers hooking like claws and ears flat against her head.

Adam glares at her, stupefied and furious. "Stupid _bitch_!"

She only responds with a loud hiss before launching herself at him.

_Keep pushing, don't give him a chance to breathe, don't let him get his hands on you..._

Blake's body ripples under the heavy volleys of his fists. Part of her mind is fixed on his timing and the impending collision of his knuckles, dictating the relaxation and retreat of muscle groups to absorb the brunt of the blow. Though some get through and sweet heavens above does she feel it. But she matches him, and what she lacks in brute strength she makes up for with more calculated strikes. She goes for the joints, wrenching clawed fingertips into the ball-and-socket of his shoulders, kicking at his knees, and threatening swipes at his soft throat. He overextends on a punch and she bites deep into the meat of his forearm, groaning against his sleeve when his knee crashes into her stomach.

She feels him snatch a handful of her duster in his fist, predicting the forceful pull to follow. She bends at the waist and straightens her arms, letting him tear it from her shoulders without throwing her off her feet. What she didn't count on was his using his other hand to grab one of her feline ears. Adam twists hard at the waist and throws her towards the creek, a hoarse shout clawing out of her throat as pain crackles through her scalp with a pop of skin separating. Thick liquid warmth blossoms over the top of her head.

Blake's palms brace her fall, keeping her from landing head-first into the creek and its rocky bottom. Without a second thought she tucks her body up, knees to her chest, and rolls forward with a spring from her hands, finding solid footing upon landing in spite of the shocking cold of the running water that reaches half way up her shins. She finds her center just in time to brace for the collision of Adam's entire body against her, all of his weight pushing as his hands anchor to her belt and to the hair at the back of her neck. She tenses when he shifts his stance, twisting at the waist and shoving his hip into her stomach to throw her into the water. Before he can move over her she desperately lashes out with one leg to connect to the tip of her boot with his temple.

Adam staggers back, almost falling, unstable enough for Blake to have the time she needs to get above water. Her body is tight with cold, droplets rolling down her now bright red face, her jaw hanging as she gasps for air. Her thoughts are quick to coalesce together again as she watches him try to recover, determined to make one last push. She rolls one wrist, a stretch of silk starting to unwind as she forces herself to make the two long strides to get close enough to grab him. Blake almost falls on him, half off-balance as her plows her fist into his face three times, each blow solid. Then she she jerks him by the collar, putting him on his back.

Blake was quicker, always had been, and she was sure to make him see it now. Make him see that he couldn't hold her back, make him see that she wasn't afraid of him anymore. She follows through where he had fumbled before, managing all of her weight on top of him in a quick blur of motion, her knees settling on his chest. Quickly she takes the loose end of the ribbon in her off hand and weaves it between her fingers. It's just long enough. Adam tries to rise against her, raising his head, the movement she was hoping for. Blake works the ribbon behind his head, pulling upward briefly until she can cross her arms, crossing the fabric over his throat. Then she _pushes downward_. His head smacks to the creek bed, the ribbon wedging beneath his jaw and almost cutting into his skin. His body bucks against hers but she's perched too high on his chest for it to matter.

Every thread of her being demands she _holds on_. _Keep pushing_. Her heart hammers behind her ribs and her body shivers from both the flood of adrenaline in her blood and the cold soaking into her skin. She blinks at the water splashing up into her face from the eruption of bubbles. She ignores the bite of Adam's fingers clawing at her arms, barely flinches when he manages to land two hard blows to her face, blood spilling out of her nose. Her fingers are starting to hurt, but she won't let go this time, not until the flashback stops. Not until she can forget how he had done this to her with his bare hands after she had dared to tell him _no_ to his face. Not until the bubbles cease.

It takes less than a minute.

Blake can't feel the cold anymore when his hands fall into the water, limp. Finally she lets her hands relax, ignoring the dark red marks around them as the silk unwinds. Her chest heaves to pull in oxygen though her lungs are burning. Without a thought she pushes her forearm under her nose, almost startled by the bright crimson smear she finds. A puff of air escapes with a strange lilt resembling laughter, then again, but that dissolves into a choked sob when her eyes fall to Adam's face, his image distorted by the water's flow.

She forces herself to stand up, almost falling as her heels slip on the slick rocks of the creek bed. She hurries onto dry land to fetch her coat, the cold starting to settle in as the adrenaline tapers off. Then she searches for Gambol Shroud, finding its parts and joining them to rest on her back once more. All the while she feels the tears burning in her eyes, scorching her cheeks without her permission. Perhaps a part of her was in mourning for him. After all, they had been friends once. She had, at one time, been convinced they loved one another. But looking back on that now -which she couldn't help but do though she's loathe to- they had been many things. In love had not been one of them.

Blake runs, disappearing into the forest once again.

 

 

Author's Note: The fight scenes in this one are easily some of the best I feel I've written. I haven't written with this much potency since "Feral", at least that's what it feels like. Next chapter, depending on how it pans out, we'll find out what the remnants of team JNPR are up to and some plot stuff to go along with them. Also, Blake still has a fight ahead of her, so hold on to your butts.

 


	4. Chapter Three

Ruby left Haven, Mistral entirely, for Atlas nearly two months ago, and the three of them continued searching for clues behind Beacon's fall. Jaune shakes his head, realizing that was ten month behind them now.

Mistral is a miserable place this time of year. According to locals it's miserable all year long, but in the lingering, heavy heat of Summer's death throws, it's the fucking pits. Haven is an example of the best place to be during the Summer, situated on a wide open expanse of flat and solid ground blanketed in short grass and sparse clusters of flimsy trees. The rare breeze rolls through the region freely, offering brief respite from the humidity. But Jaune, Ren, and Nora will spend hardly any time here. The academy offers up little help. They're kind enough to give them refuge for as long as they need, but that's the most of it. When the trio exhausts every idea, they strike out to surrounding towns, then further out into the wilds to the west where the remote villages lie.

And out here, now in the marshes where the trees group together and vines threaten to choke them, the air is still and wet and horrible. Nothing stays dry, not even their clothes, and the stink of rot and spores is everywhere. The first night they spend here, having to sleep just off the uneven trail they walk, they wake covered in reed leeches. Nora doesn't sleep soundly for days after that, not until they find a town that has repellant for sale. They don't have much Lien between them, but they would much rather be broke than crawling with vermin.

Their first big break comes from an older man who happened to have his fan boat docked as they carefully navigate a bayou. He has no teeth and his accent is so damn thick they have to ask him to talk slower, but they are eventually able to ask him the usual questions. Did you hear about Beacon, have you heard any rumors, do you recognize this symbol -and they show him a soggy piece of paper with a sketch of a black queen chess piece on it. The boatman claps his calloused and wrinkled hands together in front of him, gibbering on and gesturing an offer for them to board his boat. From what they can tell he's making a delivery and wants a couple extra hands to protect it. Not so much from Grimm, which they see a couple just beneath the surface of the murky water, more so from humans. The young hunters hadn't forgotten word of less than savory characters out this way.

Caissa, the boatman keeps saying, it's the only word they can pick out and remember throughout the one sided conversation. And once they reach the other side of the bayou, reach another little town full of tin houses propped on stilts, it's the first word out of their mouths to the locals. A faunus, his type indiscernible at a glance -they only know it by his pricked human ears- and with a diminished accent, tells them it's an abandoned town further south of them and that it's not a place they should want to go. "Nothin' there but bad dreams" he says. When they insist on "bein' pigheaded", he just points them back to the boat that brought them here, assuring them the aged operator would help. Though he isn't so glad to let them on his boat this time.

When he drops them off some hour or so later, not even bothering to cut the engine for the prop, he points into the trees, he tells them in his own way where to go before pulling away from the bank and hitting the gas.

Jaune feels Ruby's absence settling like a stone around his neck as the dull roar of the boat's prop fades into silence. Now all he hears are cicadas. He swallows, taking his spot at the front, though he's convinced it isn't where he belongs. Out of reflex he cautions Ren and Nora to keep their eyes peeled.

Sinkholes and deceptively deep patches of mud litter the path, the bog making an attempt to reclaim it from the time when it was regularly used. Looking up they see nothing but tangled branches, like fingers they lace together with sparse bits of sunlight working through the lattice work. Direct sunlight becomes more and more sparse and they push deeper into the marsh, but the sense of confinement is brief. The trees open up, the path leading over a sizable stretch of still water pocked with cypress knees. The light dances on the surface as frogs leap away from the earthen path when they come close. Nora giggles, but the sound dies when she sees a black snake chase after a toad with a splash.

The path winds through the swamp perhaps a hundred yards, and at its end the trees block the light again over an expanse of solid ground. The fractured remains of a sign peeks out of the moss and rot, the wood covered in little mushrooms and green sprouts. Upon closer inspection Ren confirms what the carvings on it say. They're going the right way.

Pushing through here is harder, the trail breaking up into stretches of thigh deep water covered in algae. It's not that these pitfalls weren't easy to spot, but they have to walk through the larger ones and there is no way of knowing what might be hiding under the rich swaths if green. Jaune makes a point to always go first, fording the water with his sword in front of him, sweeping it back and forth beneath the surface in order to -hopefully- scare away anything he couldn't see.

It's early evening when the canopy breaks again, the sky bright orange above them. A flock of herons snag their attention as they pass overhead, leading their eyes to the collection of buildings at the end of another winding path through the water.

This place _reeks_ , and not in the way one expects a swamp to stink. There is something otherworldly about the odor here and it makes the hunters cringe, it's like sucking gas fumes and smoke. The next thing they notice is the color of the water; it's yellow and translucent in the same way as antifreeze. Jaune tests the surface with the tip of his sword, repulsed when some of the color clings to the steel in a thick syrup when he pulls it back. _No wonder this place seems so empty. It's toxic._

All the houses are on stilts, but unlike the little stopover from before, the homes are entirely wood and in serious disrepair. The swamp has had years to take the place back and was doing so with little delay. Vines crawl up the stilts and across the gangplank walkways, curling through open windows and letting themselves right in through empty front doorways. Roofs are caved in from wet and rot, shedding light in on insides full of little more than moss and cobwebs. No one has set foot in this place in some time.

Jaune ducks his upper half through a doorway, having a glance inside. "Spread out, but don't stray too far."

"What are we looking for?" Nora pulls Magnhild into her hands, collapsing the hammer into its gun form.

"Well, we got here because of the symbol, see if you find it anywhere."

Nora nods and grabs Ren by the sleeve before taking off along another path of wooden planks.

Jaune pauses to fish through his backpack, finding his flashlight and hoping against hope that it would still work. It hadn't gotten wet, but it's a toss up as to whether or not he had changed the batteries recently. The button clicks under his thumb and light springs through the lens. The first two houses yield nothing, just ruin and mold and a spider too big for his liking. As he moves to the third he stops as as his foot pushes against a loose piece of wood, the sound of it dragging his gaze downward. Why he felt the need to give it closer attention, he doesn't know, but he crouches down, water squishing in his shoes as he does. It's caked in thick green moss that has started to flower, so he flips it over. Splotches of red lichens obscure the symbol there, but with a sideways cock of his head he can make it out. It's a bishop, like the one a chess board, stained a dull rust color when it had likely once been bright red. Two holes along the top of the piece of wood draw his eyes up, he spies the hooks it must have once hung from still mounted above the dilapidated doorway.

Jaune stands up and turns around, looking back at the houses he's already visited, finding similar plaques hanging over the entrances; a white knight and a black rook respectively. He takes a second look into the building with the knight plaque, and with the flashlight he can make out an anvil that somehow hasn't fallen through the rotted floor. And on the wall are iron tools meant to work a forge.

"Jaune!"

He snaps upright and doesn't think twice before breaking into a run at the sound of his name, Nora's high-pitched cry something he can never ignore. He shoves the flashlight back in the bag and pulls his shield onto his off hand, ready for a fight, but finds none when he sees Ren. His anxiety eases only a little when he accepts that they aren't in any immediate danger, but his mind holds onto traces of it at Ren's appearance. One palm rests over his mouth, his arm across his stomach to prop up the other. His eyes are closed and a little groan works through him. He looks like he's going to be sick.

"What's wrong?" he asks once he's close enough.

Nora pops out of the house, looking more than happy to do so, her face a little pale.

"What is it?" he repeats.

"There...th-there's a body. Or what's left of one."

Jaune's brow knits over his wide eyes, disbelief just shy of taking over. Some little part of his mind is in complete denial until he has a look for himself. By god there it is, a heap in the corner that could have easily been mistaken for something else as it was half wrapped in a stretch of moth eaten cloth. It had been intact once, he's sure, but there's evidence of predation, bones strew across the floor and the skeleton itself half collapsed on its side. But this wasn't recent. These remains had to be years old. He recoils quickly, feeling his stomach turn. Jaune breathes and swallows through the terrible feeling.

Once he's able he straightens, clearing his throat and spitting into the water. He looks back at the house, up above the doorway. He doesn't find a plaque, but there's evidence of a symbol painted above the door. A red pawn.

"It couldn't have been Grimm." Nora pants a little. "They wouldn't have left anything."

Jaune nods in agreement, still looking at the little painting. "C'mon, let's keep going. You okay, Ren?"

He nods, gagging behind his hand as he starts to walk with them.

Following bridges and gangplanks through the abandoned village they find more bodies, all of them in similar states of decay. Some of them in their beds, others in the middle of the floor, one is sprawled on the walkway, though most of it is gone, all that's left is a dark outline where the flesh had rotted away and left...stuff behind. Ren is this close to losing his lunch -what little he had to eat earlier. Nora is quiet, though Jaune knows she feels awful, like her skin is crawling. He can tell by the way she clutches her gun close to her chest, shoulders inched a little higher than usual.

Jaune keeps his attention a little higher, to the crossbeams of doorways in search of more insignias. Most of them are pawns in varying colors, red and black and white -or what used to be white. The deeper they move into the village the less of the other colors he sees. All the symbols steadily become black and are made up of the pieces of higher rank on the board. He feels his pulse quicken when his eyes settle on the black queen. It's painted above a doorway half a dozen houses down from them. From where he stands he can see through the entrance and the empty gaping hole that had once been the back wall of the house. This allows him to see the movement inside, a pair of silhouettes going back and forth. Out of reflex he reaches for Nora and grabs her wrist -she in turn grabs Ren- pulling hard as he ducks out of sight. One by one their heads inch out from around the rotted structure, lined up like a totem pole to watch.

 

"Be careful!"

"Well maybe if you'd hold still,"

"If you make me drop this, Mercury, so help me..."

"I've _got you_ , I promise." Mercury holds Emerald by the ankles, her heels dinging into his shoulder as she maintains her balance and reaches up into the rafters of the house. "But you might want to expedite things, I don't know how much longer this floor is going to hold us both."

"I've almost got it." she bites back. "God I _hate_ this place."

There's a dull crunch over his head and he cringes as wood slivers and dust fall in his face and hair. "Anything?"

"Yeah, now let me down easy."

Mercury kneels, spitting at the debris on his lips as she steps down, the floorboards groaning suspiciously. "Damn, I didn't think it would be that big."

"Me neither. Now lets get out of here."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to be late for Cinder to give you your bi-weekly ass-whipping."

"Shut _up_. Now hold still."

 

The three of them watch as Emerald and Mercury emerge from the house, Emerald close behind him and appearing to strap something to his back. Something that's wide and square enough to hide his torso and backside that's wrapped in leather and canvas. Jaune feels like he should recognize them, would swear he's seen them before, but the memory escapes him.

"Weren't they at Vytal?" Nora whispers. "They beat Coco and Yatsuhashi."

Jaune's brows jump. She's right. And he remembers almost too vividly how Yang Xiaolong had taken out the young man's knee, remembers how he cringed when he saw the event unfold on a monstrous screen.

"Nora, take Ren and see if you can work your way behind them."

"What are _you_ going to do?"

"I want to know what they're up to."

"So you're just going to ask?" She looks at him, only a little dumbfounded.

"You got a better idea?"

She doesn't.

 

Mercury starts down the passage of bridges, making it half a dozen steps before he realizes Emerald isn't following. "Em? What's wrong,"

She has yet to even face the direction they intend to leave by, looking away from him. "You feel that?"

"...No. Now c'mon, let's just get Cinder her damn mirror and-,"

"Wait," she puts up one hand, hushing him. Then she lets out an unimpressed huff. "Oh. It's you."

Mercury backpedals, not even turning around but walking backwards and leaning so he can see around the crumbling house closest to him. The corner of his mouth kinks at the sight of a scraggly blond that appears not much older or younger than himself. "Oh hey, buddy, how's it going? Where's the rest of your team? ...Or did they bite it too?"

"What are you doing here?" Jaune asks, never mind the introductions or pleasantries.

"Just out for a walk -you know- running some errands, right Em?"

She says nothing, doesn't even acknowledge Mercury's words. She looks at Jaune, a strange mixture of wariness and sympathy in her eyes. Though her brows belie a sense of puzzlement. No way that static against her aura is coming from him.

"But if it's all the same to you, we've gotta get going." Mercury reaches back, snatching Emerald's wrist, the woman shaking her head when her body starts to move as if breaking free from a daze. Mercury stops short again, Emerald almost smacking into him. She chances to look over his shoulder, seeing a head of bright red hair before zeroing in on the barrel of a gun.

"Hah, nice to see _one_ ginger made it out of Beacon in one piece," Mercury chuckles unevenly. He's the only one who laughs. His head jerks in the direction of a loud wooden groan, looking up and seeing another hunter perched on a more solid corner of the roof above him. He swallows.

"What's so important about the mirror?"

"Wish I had time to tell you, but we're on a schedule." Mercury tuck his chin, "Em, you want to give us an exit or something?"

She doesn't want to do it, feels her chest tighten at the suggestion, but nods all the same. If they were going to get out of this swamp with the mirror intact, they couldn't afford to take any chances. As quick as a thought she reaches back with her hand and pushes beneath her hair to touch the chess piece tattoo there. She shivers once, hard, feeling a creeping coldness under her skin just as she grabs Mercury by the shoulder and takes off in the only other direction they can. They turn a corner, half slipping as they try and avoid two of Magnhild's heavy rounds.

Emerald keeps Mercury in front of her, making sure the mirror is shielded between them as they run across bridges and jump the broken clusters of planks. She hears the other hunters pursuing them, one jumping from roof to roof -she can see the flicker of his shadow pass over them time and again- and the redhead she catches in the corner of her eye running parallel to them. The blond one is just behind them, arms and legs pumping in a full sprint to catch up. She tries to keep her focus on the solid ground at the far end of the row of houses, knowing if they can just get there they can slip away.

"Get the mirror!" Jaune cries out to his teammates. Never mind the reason, if they need it, he wants to make sure they don't keep it.

"Shit." Emerald hisses under her breath. She feels the cold shudder again and knows what's coming. They can make it.

The toxic water beneath one of the houses ahead starts to writhe, churning and bubbling from beneath the surface. As the running steps come closer, the motion pitches and intensifies. Something is clawing up from underneath. There's a bright purple flash from between the stilts before the structure explodes upward, rotted slivers and hunks of wood flying in every direction. A column of polluted water lurches into the air, a blur of black and white and crimson emerging from the peak. In a split second it lands as Emerald and Mercury just pass beneath it, surging forward to meet Jaune on the bridge.

He isn't ready. He simply isn't ready for the initial impact that his mind doesn't even process the source of. It comes just as his shield arm raises in mid-stride, and it hits him so _hard_ his feet leave the ground and his body twists in the air before he smacks down flat on his back. Reflex demands he roll over and scramble to his feet, raising his shield again to brace for another jarring collision, the first of a quick succession of volleys. Jaune can't find the guts to retaliate at first, having trouble just focusing enough to comprehend what's happening. When he finally grips his senses he lifts his head and pushes back with all his body weight behind the shield before following through with a confident thrust of his sword. The attack is parried, his opponent making a full turn and swinging at his head with a shield of their own -one with greater reach than his as it clips his aura near his temple.

That was much too close, a little part of him panicking as his body tucks inward. His aura surges outward, a warm sensation of _push_ passing over him. He feels the next impact but through the veil of his semblance, feels his opponent's weapon _bounce off_ of him. Jaune processes the sound of collapsing wood and chances to raise his head. They had been thrown several yards back, having gone through a weak spot in the bridges and into the water.

It isn't just adrenaline making Jaune shake; his mind is chanting a litany of expletives, all of them asking some version of _what the hell was that_?!

He doesn't get far as he starts running again. His opponent isn't finished with him and the water stirring under the bridge is quickly gaining on his shadow. Jaune will see it when it emerges this time, once he can see beyond the rotted wooden shrapnel and liquid filth. At first he thinks it's a Grimm, making out bone plates and stark blackness framed in bloody red, but then he gasps at its resemblance to a human being. A human in Grimm armor is the best way his mind can process it. Jaune has to consciously force himself to move and react as the warrior bears down on him, spitting fire.

 

_Almost there_ Emerald's mind chants. They're so close now, and the hunters have yet to make a move on them. A few more yards and they'll have free reign to get the fuck out of here. She's lost sight of the red-head but quickly deciphers where she's gone when she watches, her gut sinking, as a cluster of wood flies into the pathway only a few steps ahead, ripping the planks away from their moorings. Without a second thought, hand still a fist in Mercury's shirt, she takes the next corner, almost toppling off the walkway in doing so. Three long strides and they have to stop again, their path cut off by a volley of rounds and a cloud of pink smoke half concealing the gaping hole at their feet.

"Just go, I'll try to keep them busy." and Emerald jerks him around and gives a strong-armed shove to send him running back the other way. She draws her pistols before ducking quietly into a nearby house.

Nora jumps through the remnants of the smoke, brow knit and Magnhild gripped tightly. There's no sign of them, but she keeps searching, eyes scanning for any sign of movement or something out of place. Seven steps and she stops, hearing a hushed ripple in the water behind her. For a moment she couldn't believe them dumb enough to try and swim out of here, but she turns to have a look all the same. Some folks are just that kind of crazy. What she finds is a massive white body covered in slimy scales that leads to a huge, triangular head with bright red and slitted eyes. For a moment all she can do is stare as its mouth opens and closes, tongue flickering and fangs catching the meager light of the evening. Then she screams. " _Taijitu_!"

Nora's cry crackles through his senses, demanding Ren's attention like the jerk of a too-short leash. He skids to a stop, rotted shingles popping off the roof, and he looks back with a snap of his head to one shoulder. He can hear Nora's sprinting footsteps, can hear Magnhild barking rounds that break up into pink smoke, but he can't hear or see any trace of the Grimm. Something as big as a Taijitu should be sticking out like a sore thumb in this place. The steady _thump-thump-thump_ of Mercury's boots still try to pull him away, the schism in his mind filling him with a sort of panic. The sensation flares when he's distracted again, a bright orange flash catching his eyes. Was that fire?

Ren swallows it all, forcing himself to be stable, and then jumps down. Nora sounds closest to him.

 

Mercury feels relief wash over him as his feet touch solid ground, tall grass whipping against his legs that he knows more by sound than sensation. A smirk works across his face as he chances a glance over his shoulder. "C'mon, Emerald! We can make it, let's go- _holy SHIT_!"

All he sees before the world spins around him is an incredible white and silver blur followed by the horrific sensation of something blunt and hooked pitching upward under his ribs. He's thrown up into the air, no telling how high, his limbs madly flailing in an attempt to right himself again.

_Let me land on my feet, let me land on my feet, PLEASE let me land on my...._

Mercury lands hard on his stomach, his face bouncing off the ground, but is still grateful. The mirror didn't break.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"Oh, god damn it." he groans, hoarse, trying to get his lungs to work again. He props himself on one elbow, looking back and cringing. "God _damn it_ ," he repeats. "Don't you two ever quit?!"

A woman with bright copper skin stands over him, pushing one hand through a shock of jet black hair that is naturally upswept. In her other hand are the coils of a bullwhip. Mercury looks up into her face with contempt, unconsciously drawn to the splash of bright red paint across her eyes like the mask on a raccoon. For a brief second his eyes drop to the swish of a heavy, dark-pelted tail. "What's that you got there?"

"Nothing for you." He pushes to his knees, coughing once before standing up, raising his fists.

"That so? Well, you wouldn't object to me having a peek, would you?" she takes a half step back, body turned to the side, an exotic looking hardwood buckler out in front of her. For a split second she rises to balls of her feet and then lunges forward.

 

Emerald only moves when she has to, trying to maintain eye contact with the redhead. It's much harder than she anticipated as the girl runs screaming. She'll pull the illusion back when she sees the other hunter, the dark haired man in green, waiting for the tightened discomfort in her brain to pass before starting to think again. It would take some doing, but she could use her semblance on both of them at once...

It sounds like an oncoming train, a sound that immediately draws Emerald's attention away from the two hunters. Through a wall full of pock-marks she makes out a silver and white mass barreling her way and moves from where she crouches in a half-collapsed doorway. The house explodes just behind her, the only thing louder than the crashing of wood and shingles is the bellowing of a silver bison. Big argent eyes fall on Emerald, the animal snorting and digging with massive hooves before it lurches into another charge. She flees, putting a little distance between her and the bison, running headlong for the next building and kicking off its facade. She unloads a swarm of rounds down onto the creature as her body turns, knees tucking to her chest as she touches down and leans into a roll to disperse the impact.

The bullets ripple off of an aura, little sparks marking each ricochet. The bison slides to a stop, one hoof off kilter as the boards give under it. It quickly starts doubling back but doesn't drop its head, instead it takes three great strides before jumping off the bridge and tucking into a somersault. Its great shape morphs into something somewhat smaller, the silver hide giving way dark terra cotta and black and gray, and it unfurls into something more human that continues the hard advance. When Emerald starts shooting again, the hunter draws twin axes from the holster on their back -looking to be made of stone, not any known metal- and lets them spin in their massive hands to divert the rounds with a shower of sparks.

When Emerald tries to run again there's a flash of pale blue light, the hunter swinging one ax in a powerful upward stroke. Dust shimmers from the blade, chunks of ice seeming to erupt from the planks of the bridge and follow tight to Emerald's heels. The ice bites into one ankle, holding her in place like a steel trap.

The hunter dwells on Emerald for a moment, nostrils flaring as they turn away. She can wait. They spot the other young hunters, both with their weapons pointed at them.

"I'm here to help. I can smell the fire, show me where it burns."

For a moment Ren and Nora just stare, fixed on their silver eyes and the horns that sprout from their temples.

 

Jaune crawls out of a pile of wood slivers, having to pull his lower half out of a large hole in the floor of the house he just crashed through. Sharp edges scrape his belly, making him wince. He scrambles to get back on his feet. Blood and sweat smear his face and neck, his body heaves to keep air in his lungs though it tastes like charcoal from the flames, and his heart sputters within his chest like a terrified, caged bird. Jaune doesn't fully stand up as he registers the Grimm warrior jumping through the hole he had made in the wall, letting the figure soar right over him and land on the far side of the pile of debris. He leaps through the opening, out onto the bridges and his only thought is to put at least some distance between him and that _thing_. Jaune hears the whistle and the resounding shudder of the wooden planks as something strikes just behind him, turning at the sound and making himself stop and stand his ground.

The lance sticking at an angle into the bridge looks to be crafted from bone and streaked with red. It matches the Grimm warrior's armor, a likeness he's all too aware of as they retrieve the weapon and fix on him again. It's his first chance to get a good look at it, making out the snarling visage of a helmet concealing the warrior's face, a mane of wild crimson hair long enough to coil around the neck and shoulders, and toxic green eyes boring into him. A golden flicker catches his attention for half a second, long enough for his mind to decipher the stinger on the end of a tail made up of bleached and bare vertebra.

_Oh my god, what have I gotten us into!?_

Jaune shrinks against the onslaught of attacks, mind full of hot static and overwhelmed. He struggles to remember even the most basic rules of combat, the ones that should be more than second nature by now. His shield kicks back and bashes him in the chin, the blow dizzying. Then he's flat on his back with a hard _smack_ when something solid catches the back of his legs and pulls. He sees the glimmer of the barbed tail in the firelight, swatting it away with his sword whenever it gets too close. More than once he feels it bounce off his shield, sparks flying in his face.

The Grimm warrior takes a step forward, one bone plated boot almost too close between his legs, the other coming down on his chest as the tail coils around the young hunter's blade to hold it in place. They put all their weight on him, trapping his shield to his chest and pushing the air out of him. It turns the spear over in its hand, the blade pointed downward. Jaune tries to push back with his semblance but it won't respond, so he braces himself. He knows what's coming and can't help but shut his eyes.

Magnhild barks and the air whistles with the falling of heavy shells before they combust against the Grimm knight's shield, pushing it back a couple of steps. Before Jaune realizes fully what's happening, his hoodie pulls up around his neck and his body starts sliding across the bridge. His panic is squashed under the sound of more guns, Stormflower adding its rapid succession of rounds to Magnhild's.

"Get up and fight, boy!"

Jaune is jerked to his feet, lifted entirely off the ground before settling upright. He only has a moment to process the massive body in front of him before they push him to face the other direction and advance. That same massive body is just beside him, on his shield side, and they move against the Grimm knight together.

 

Mercury's head snaps to the side and he stumbles back, pain crackling through his jaw and swelling into his face. It stings enough to make his eyes water, his hand drifting with hooked fingers towards his cheek, wincing when his knuckles make contact with a hot wet stickiness. Contempt tightens his sweaty brow as he watches the faunus stand up quickly from a crouch, having just landed from spinning through the air and lashing out with her heavy tail to strike his face. The throbbing in his head now joins the pulsing in his ribs and thighs, the faunus having waylaid him from every angle -she hasn't actually laid a hand on him, just a pair of incredibly powerful legs. He can't understand how her attacks seem to completely ignore his aura, and can't be sure if the mirror is still intact.

"I don't want to do this," she says, finally loosening her fingers around the bullwhip, letting its length rest on the ground. Her dark eyes flash a bright, vibrant green. "I _will_ outlast you."

"Shove it." Mercury pushes off with his rear leg, bringing up his knee as the gap between them closes in an instant. He lets her push it aside with the rim of the wood buckler, absorbing the impact and letting it turn his hips just right. His other legs thrusts back and connects with something soft, he peeks over his shoulder to see her tumble backwards, bracing on her tail to keep from falling and flipping head over heels.

Once she's stable again she swings the whip from the side, aiming low, and cracks it just beside him. It snaps against his knee with a small burst of green light, and though Mercury doesn't shout in pain, a grunt of frustration rattles out of him when he falls on his face. She spares a moment to physically cringe at how the lower portion of his leg tucks inward, _knowing_ damn good and well that it shouldn't bend that way. But that moment is brief and she snaps the whip just so to snatch his other ankle and drag him towards her.

"Now let's have a look at th-," she's bending down, reaching for the concealed mirror on his back when she stops, her head turning in a quick snap of motion at the sound of her name. The stretch of grassland they stand on is now bathed in red and gold and orange and hotter air wafts through the marsh, smothering. The polluted water has caught fire, the entire village beginning to go up in flames. Every thought of the young man scatters from her mind as she springs into a full sprint, jumping with both arms out into the water before the flames can reach the shore. She takes an especially deep breath, her eyes taking on an emerald glow before she is submerged.

 

Jaune had drawn blood. He had actually managed to cut the Grimm knight, the edge of his sword finding its way into the small space between the helmet and the armor to tear into its neck. That's when it starts spewing fire with an intensity that has even the large faunus pulling back. It couples spurts of flames with wild advances that threaten to push them all off the bridge and into the burning water. Rancid fumes billow up into the air, choking. Not even minutes pass before the first houses start collapsing, pulled down as they burn up so quickly.

The faunus works their way behind the Grimm knight, mindful of the growing creaks and pops of the wooden planks under their feet as they run. Pushing through a veil of flames they find it again, still assailing the other hunters. They take a breath, silver eyes shimmering a bright platinum as they hurl one of the axes with all the strength they can muster. It sings through the air and strikes into the bone plates on the Grimm knight's back, splitting them in two with a loud _SNAP_ and pushing through to flesh. With a shriek and a hard twist of its body the knight turns on them, the tomahawk tearing away from the wound and clattering to the bridge. They make eye contact with it just before everything switches, a shimmer of silver light breaking apart the hellish crimson glow as the faunus and the Grimm change places, allowing them to retrieve their ax with no trouble.

Smoke coils through the vertical opening in the helmet and green eyes flash with a growling exhale. The air begins to ripple in a way that the hunters feel against their aura, like invisible, slimy hands. It's reaching all across the burning village, and when it grabs hold, the sounds are masked by roaring flames. Nails are torn out from their moorings, the hooks above doorways are ripped free in showers of embers, and even the smithy's anvil is gathered up from the mire it had fallen in. Panic rips through the young hunters as they feel it too, the pulling that has latched onto their weapons and armor and threatens to rip them loose. Everything metal on them is being swayed by this invisible energy.

The faunus quickly sheathes their axes, their face twisted up in frustration and fury. It can see the buildings collapsing, not from immolation but from no longer being held fast together. It's happening all around them, soon enough the only thing above the water will be the bridges. There is no other option but to pull back. Without a word the faunus turns around, both incredible arms reaching out to snatch two of the three young hunters about the waist and lift them up as they run, legs pumping hard against the pull on whatever metal they carry. Ren takes his cue from the faunus, quick to sheath Stormflower and follow.

Just as they felt it pull, they also feel when the energy pushes outward, an incredible _shove_ that sends every metal object flying with enough force to rip through any obstacle it meets. It pulls on the hunters in the faunus' arms, throwing them off balance. They fall to one knee briefly, but just long enough for Nora to get her head dunked in the water, scaring the ever living daylights out of her. Thankfully she didn't catch fire. Jaune put up his shield just quickly enough to deflect a hail of rusty iron nails. He turns his head at the moving shape behind him, watching as Ren stumbles, rolling forward and getting back to his feet. Jaune then shouts his name, wriggling in the faunus' grip helplessly as the lone anvil flies by in a black blur and strikes Ren between the shoulders. He bounces off a pile of smoldering ruin before splashing into the water, out of sight.

"Don't worry, boy, help is coming." The faunus assures, unwilling to let him or Nora go. She's absolutely beside herself, tears rolling down her ash smeared cheeks as she screams for Ren.

The three of them finally reach the other side, flopping onto solid ground once its beneath their feet. Jaune hits his knees, sword and shield slipping free from him as his body heaves to capture his next breath. His lungs and throat burn from the ash and embers and fumes, his head is spinning. His ears are ringing, the dull pushing sound commingled with the shattered echoes of Nora screaming and the roar of flames behind him. He retches, but nothing comes up.

The faunus still stands, looking to manically pace the banks of the marsh, watching the water. Watching, watching...until a green shimmer peeks through the flames. They run towards it, stopping at the water's edge. The other faunus appears several yards out, the flames licking around her, unable to pass through a thin verdant light that surrounds her. She spits and curses at the filth all over her, hauling Ren in on her shoulder, handing him off to her much larger counterpart. They lay him flat on the ground and start pushing on his chest when they find his body much too still.

Nora drops Magnhild and makes quick but uneven strides towards Ren. The faunus with the long tail puts herself between them, shaking her head and looking unsure if there is anything she could say to ease this. She just holds Nora by the upper arms, firm but not too tight.

Chest compressions don't work, making the larger faunus scowl. They flip the young man over, his body unceremoniously flopping on its stomach, and cinch their tree-trunk arms around his middle. They pull up with a snap of motion, squeezing at the same time, forcing a burst of filthy water and bile to erupt from his mouth. He starts to choke. Draped over the faunus' arm they pat his back in a steady and firm rhythm, helping him get the rest of the water out on his own.

"That's it, boy, once more," one slap of their large palm against his shoulders followed by a gargling groan, "there you go."

" _Ren_!"

"It's all right, Tag." and they carefully put Ren to sitting up, not wanting him flat on the chance he'll retch again, and then gestures with their free hand. They stand up and step away as the redhead slides on her knees to Ren's side, arms around him in a second.

Now the faunus face each other. The smaller one, Tag, looks up into her cohort's face. "What about the marsh?"

"Let it burn, there's no saving it. Where's the human?"

"I had to let him go, you called for me."

The larger one nods. "And his partner?"

"..."

"Tag,"

"I had to release her, else she would've burned alive." Tag can't meet their eyes for a moment. They no longer glow with energy, but are black with reflections of gold from the flames. "You're angry with me."

"No. Just frustrated...it shouldn't have happened like this. The Grimm was here."

Tag's features stretch, wary. "I thought I had felt it." she nods slowly. "I hate to think humans have learned to call on such things."

"Let's hope it is a rare trait among them." a sigh expands their big chest. "And what of these hunters?"

Tag looks to the blond man laying on the ground. "They're so young, Billy."

"No younger than we were."

"But too young to be out here like this, just the three of them and with no mentor." she looks to the other two. "They need our help."

"That goes without saying." a little snort. "...If you believe we should,"

"I do."

"Very well then," they nod, "as my Maiden wishes."

 

 

Author's Note: So yeah, my hand slipped. I don't know how this chapter turned into a "let's talk about JNR" but, it did. Next chapter I'll try to elaborate more on what they found and the relevance of chess pieces and old mirrors. Questions and comments always welcome.

 


	5. Chapter Four

Jaune and Nora both woke that morning sore and exhausted, still dirty with sweat and ash from the night before. Jaune gets to his feet, cringing at the disgusting wetness in his clothes and shoes as he gathers his things. He scratches at the leech hickeys on his arms and neck before pulling on his backpack. "Nora, you up?" It doesn't phase him when all he gets is a grunting protest. That is business as usual. Rubbing his eyes his vision clears, allowing him to see the early morning mist hanging around them. It's hard to tell if its fog or just lingering smoke from the burning mess they left behind.

Jaune blinks when the faunus come into view, slightly startled to find that they're real. He had been ready to write them off as just a strange dream brought about by smoke inhalation. For a moment he watches them as they sit near the remains of last night's campfire, their backs to him. Billy has their arms up, massive hands holding their dark blue shirt at neck level while Tag pulls tight and ties into place a broad stretch of hard leather around their chest. With a little grunt of effort she pulls the big knot in the back closed, patting Billy's shoulder as a sign of her task being completed. Tag uses her tail to push herself up, offering Billy a hand once she's upright.

A bison and an otter. Jaune never thought faunus like that existed. Though that shock is a little one; it takes all kinds of people to make a world, after all, even people that paint their faces and make weapons from nothing more than stone and leather and wood.

"Jaune,"

He quickly spins around, footing uneven for a second.

"...Ren won't wake up."

Three quick and long strides bring Jaune to Ren's bedroll where Nora kneels, her hand pushing his shoulder. Jaune can see there's no color in his face and sweat is rolling off of him. Then he looks at Nora, sees the deep worry, but also sees that she doesn't look much better than Ren. She's pale, cheeks glistening in the early morning light, dark circles hang under her eyes. That's something Jaune has never seen on her before.

"Is everything all right?"

Jaune looks up to see Tag and Billy standing over them. For a second, he can't find any words, his tongue still heavy in his mouth from sleep. "Ren's running a fever."

"He swallowed a lot of water." Billy's brow knits. "Her too?"

He looks to Nora again and then back to the faunus. "I think so."

"What about you?" Tag asks, her tone decidedly more sympathetic. "You don't seem  _as well_ , but,"

"I'm just tired." he shakes his head. "We need to get them to a doctor."

"I think the nearest town is that large one we passed through," Billy nods once.

Tag looks over her shoulder, head tilted back. "How fast could you get them there?"

"Half a day, maybe faster with your mark on me. Do you wish me to take them?"

"Please. He and I will catch up when we can."

Billy nods and takes a step back, giving Tag enough space to turn and face them as they present their wrist to her. A gentle green glow begins in her eyes and then forms around her fingertip as she begins to draw on their skin. Auras ripple against one another gently, not provoking but almost soothing as a sort of tattoo forms on Billy's skin: a pair of fish that look to be trying to eat each other's tails. The bison's silver eyes wax brighter for a moment.

"Do you need to eat?" Tag asks, a practiced question.

"I have, thank you." Billy catches Jaune's eyes. "Get them ready, it's best we don't wait."

Jaune doesn't argue, doesn't have it in him. He just does as he's told, helping Nora pack up her and Ren's bedrolls. Even after being maneuvered around and lifted up by the shoulders, Ren doesn't respond, his head rolling on a limp neck.

Jaune has to blink a few times to accept what he sees when Billy somersaults from flat feet, their form changing into an incredible silver bison. He can't move towards them until Tag gestures with her hand, assuring him with a smile that it's safe. The bison kneels down, allowing them an easier time at getting Nora and Ren on their back.

"Be sure to hold on tight," Tag strokes the animal's side. "They don't mind if you pull their hair a little." Billy snorts with a toss of their head. Tag laughs quietly. When she knows the humans are well situated behind the large hump on Billy's back, she swats the bison's flank and sends them running. Jaune watches until he can no longer see them, the blur of color consumed by the brown and drab of the marsh. All of sudden he feels so heavy.

Tag is on him before he realizes it, both hands on his shoulders to turn him towards her. She puts a palm to his forehead, studying him with dark eyes. Then she pushes his head aside an inch or two to look closer at the little wounds on his neck from leeches and wood shrapnel.

"You'll need a healer soon too," she says, brow knit and concerned. "This swamp hasn't been kind to you at all."

He exhales. "Tell me about it. So why didn't you just send me with them?"

"As big as they are, Billy can only carry two at a time without hindering their ability to run. But don't worry, we won't have to walk the whole way, either. Come with me."

_Look at the mess I've made. God damn it._ The words roll easily between his ears as he follows Tag at arm's length. He pushes his hand through his hair, hating the feel of dried filth and sweat glazing his palm. A wood sliver pricks his scalp, spiking his frustration.

"You and your pack aren't from around here, are you?" Tag turns to face him, walking backwards as she talks.

"What was your first clue?"

"You don't dress to suit this place, for starters. What is that you're wearing, anyway?" and she points to the general vicinity of his chest.

"My hoodie?"

"If that's what it's called,"

"Well...it keeps me warm."

"And this swamp is not warm enough for you?"

Oh, it's plenty warm. Jaune would gladly tear out his back teeth for a cold breeze. But wearing his hoodie is a force of habit, it's much more for the physical security than fending off any chill. He could've taken it off, sure, but why risk losing it? That and his armor doesn't fit quite right without it.

"And is that your clan symbol underneath?"

His chin dips. "My wha-, oh. Not really. I just like rabbits."

"Oh, well, where is it? Don't you want people to know who you are?"

_Not really, no. I'm nobody._ "I guess...it isn't as important where I'm from."

She turns to face forward again, shaking her head. "You humans are strange."

"Likely no stranger than you are to us."

"Fair enough." she giggles. "I suppose faunus like us aren't seen often outside of...Menagerie you called it?"

"Yeah." he nods. "What do  _you_ call it?"

"Home." she replies simply. "Where's your home, Jaune?"

"A long ways away from here."

"I gathered. You have the look of someone who's homesick."

_Among_ many _other things, yeah._

He and Tag had a long talk the night before, after he had given up trying to sleep and failing in spite of the resounding fatigue in his body.  _Your aura runs deep, it's not tired yet_ , she had said with a smile, an expression the otter holds onto more often than not. Jaune thought the comment was funny, funny with a side of pain as it brings up the memory of the last person who said something like that.

To pass the still hours of the night they exchange stories, Tag doing most of the coaxing for information with a natural curiosity. They had come to Mistral from Menagerie several months ago, looking for answers behind the decimation of several remote villages. The only clues they had startlingly resembled their own, the name Ozpin, and a scrap of cloth with a pair of symbols drawn on them. One was the black queen, the other Jaune recognized distantly as the emblem of the White Fang. After that he freely divulged what little they had managed to find before Caissa went up in flames.

"No one knows what happened to Professor Ozpin. He hasn't been seen in months."

Tag looks less than pleased to hear it.

"What do you think happened there?"

Tag is shaking her head again, "The state of the water alone is troubling. But bodies...still in their beds, you say? I can't imagine...but Billy and I found our way here from a mentor in the great village we passed through. Perhaps he could tell us more when we arrive."

 

The two of them finally emerge from the marshes and are greeted by sweeping grasslands and the light of mid-afternoon. Tag throws up her hands and takes a deep breath of fresh air through her nose, exhaling with a delighted chitter of sound. Jaune feels relief wash over him as well, cool air brushing against his hot cheeks. He pulls his hands down over his face, taking a cleansing breath.

"There." Tag points up and out in front of them, towards the horizon where Jaune can just make out the variances in the landscape. Gray and brown break up the yellow-green of the grass in symmetrical shapes of modern structures. That's no village, that's a city. "The humans called it Sanctum. Feels like Billy is already there."

"How can you tell?"

"When they wear my mark, I always know." she smirks. "Now lets find a trail, I'm tired of walking."

"Pardon?"

"You know how to find game trails, don't you?"

"...Kind of, yeah."

"Then help me look."

 

If anyone had told Jaune Arc -at any given time throughout his life- that he would ride a wild deer into Sanctum in the company of an otter faunus that had just called the animals up out of the forest by touching a hoof print in the dirt, he would have called them a liar to their face. But, sure enough, that's exactly what happened.

 

_(II)_

She sleeps during the day and travels at night, moving so long as it's dark enough, and usually finding a tree to nest in once the sun gets too high. It's much more favorable to do now that it's warmer. And even though Fall is coming faster than she expects, Blake hopes to reach her destination before the seasons change in earnest. A part of her is convinced she's ready. It's time to rebuild the bridges she burned over Beacon. Time to swallow her pride and bare her neck, and Patch should only be a day or so away according to the innkeeper in the last town she stopped in.

When she wakes the sky is burning red as the sun begins to dip beneath the horizon beyond the treeline. The rustle of leaves surrounds her, a warm breeze pushing them into a short lived frenzy. Cicadas scream, making her fold her feline ears against her scalp. She takes a deep breath when it's quiet again, stretching slowly to maintain her balance on her lofty perch. Blake shifts to the balls of her feet, preparing to move before something below her catches her attention. Something jet black against the red and gold and green around the trunk of the tree. At a glance it looks like a mound of feathers, but when they don't scatter in the wind she finds a blossom of confusion. And when it speaks, her entire body tightens, ready to vault away.

"Come down. I want to talk to you."

"Who are you?" Blake calls down. No point in trying to hide from someone who already knows she's there.

"I'm not introducing myself to someone who won't bother to stand in front of me."

Every instinct is telling her to run, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing up with a sharp zip of static. But she ignores it. Some greater whisper in her head is telling her to accept the invitation. With an easy push she descends from the branch, touching into a slight roll to disperse the impact as well as put distance between herself and the person waiting seated by the trunk.

What Blake had taken for feathers she finds to be a head full of pitch black hair, long and wild tresses just barely kept back in a messy ponytail. A set of hard crimson eyes settle on her, making her tense.

Sable brows see-saw over her eyes. "Do I know you?"

"You've likely heard of me." The woman nods once, slowly.

"You look familiar."

"We've never properly met, but you know my daughter. My brother too, most likely." the woman takes a breath. "My name's Raven. And you're Blake Belladonna."

Blake eases herself upright, an uneasiness bristling over her. "What do you want? Is this about Yang?"

"Yes and no. I was sent here to kill you...and eventually her."

Blake's hand snaps behind her head, gripping Gambol Shroud with the intent to draw it. But she pauses when Raven doesn't motion to do the same, she just sits still. "Who sent you?"

Raven takes a deep breath, eyes on the grass. One hand reaches to the collar of her shirt, pulling one lapel down to expose the upper swell of one breast. There's a mark there, a dark purple tattoo in the stylized shape of...perhaps a moth. "The Witch."

"What Witch?"

"The Witch beyond the mirror, Salem. The hand behind the collapse of Beacon. She demands all of Ozpin's children -all of  _you_ \- must die. You lot are more of a risk than she's willing to overlook."

Blake's eyes thin, brow knitting. "You would murder your own daughter?"

"I have no choice but to do as she says."

"Who is she? Really?"

Raven takes another breath, almost looking to savor it. "That story is a long one. Too long than I have time to tell. Maybe Qrow could tell you. Or even Glynda, she was there. But...the best thing I ever did for Yang was stay away."

Blake scowls.

"When I realized this mark wasn't fading, I knew something was wrong. If I had stayed, Salem likely would have had me kill Yang  _and_ Ruby, and I didn't want that. I wanted Yang to have a chance to grow up, to become...something better than me. Something better than she is now. But I see that isn't going to happen."

Blake's ears fold back, jaw tightening, offended.

"Yang failed her test. But  _you_ didn't." Raven watches the younger woman wince, slightly recoiling. "I saw what you did to Adam."

Blake swallows. "How did-,"

"That's not important. What's important is that I can't trust myself with the magic anymore, and  _you_ are the one I intend to pass it to.  _You_ have the strength and discipline to wield it."

"I don't understand."

Raven shakes her head, standing up and rolling her neck. "You don't have to understand, you just have to survive.

Blake shudders as she registers the swell of Raven's aura. It's massive, seemingly endless, and scorching against her own. The sensation of something crawling up her back raises gooseflesh all over her as she watches Raven draw an impossibly long katana. Longer than Adam's. Her hand tightens on Gambol Shroud, knuckles whitening.

"Fight well, Blake. Or I will kill you."

 

_(III)_

It is the most comfortable she has felt in months. For the first time in nearly a year Ruby lays in bed and feels warm and secure, all wrapped up and safe. In the fading haze of sleep she deciphers her legs wrapped around her sister's, ankles crossed behind one muscular thigh. Her body tucks against Yang, the two slotted together like spoons, Yang's forehead tilted against Ruby's crown. She snores gently, the soft grinding against her scalp likely what woke her. Yang's arm stretches across her waist in unconscious protection, more than long enough to extend the gesture to the other occupant in the bed. Weiss sleeps on her back but is still close, Ruby's forehead presses into her shoulder, her bent knees somehow having found their way beneath Weiss'. Yang's larger palm is flat against the heiress' stomach, Weiss' dwelling just close enough for their fingertips to almost touch. Ruby feels the soft bristle of Zwei's fur between her toes.

It's all so wonderful, like the world is _out there_ and could never get them  _in here_ , no matter how much it battered and howled against the windows and doors of the house.

Ruby is mostly awake but doesn't open her eyes, she isn't ready to pull reality that close yet. Instead she pushes a little closer to Yang, a surge of heat wafting over her as her sister stirs a little. Ruby's smiling as she unfolds one of her arms away from her chest, easily finding Weiss' hand under the blanket and sliding their fingers together. Weiss' chest expands and contracts with a sleeping sigh, her head turning. A blush swells into Ruby's face at the little kiss put to her forehead, how Weiss' lips linger there as she settles again.

"I love you." she whispers.

"...you too."

Now Ruby opens her eyes, a snap of motion to reveal shocked silver irises. Before she can fully process it, Yang shifts behind her. She reaches further across the other two girls and hooks Weiss' side, grumbling something like "'uv you too" as she jerks them both closer to her, practically squishing Ruby and ripping Weiss out of a half-dead sleep as the air is pushed out of her. Ruby tenses when her still fuzzy senses registers Weiss' fingers curling against her hand.

"What are you doing?" Weiss whispers.

"...Um,"

"Let go, you dolt."

"Sorry," Ruby recoils, but it doesn't do much, what with these close quarters.

"Your sister is  _right there_ ."

Ruby tips her chin up, carefully so as not possibly break her sister's nose. Weiss is looking at the ceiling, the strange opal shards in her eyes offering up a flicker of light in the dimness of morning coming through the window. Ruby can't see the slight redness in her pale cheeks.

"So...if she wasn't...you wouldn't,"

"...I wouldn't mind." she replies quickly.

Ruby resists the urge to giggle at the way her heart flutters.

"Hey, girls?"

Ruby lifts her head, Weiss turns towards the sound, seeing Taiyang in the open doorway.

He whispers, "I've got breakfast cooking if you want anything, okay?" and he smiles with a nod before disappearing.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm comfy." Ruby wriggles deeper into the bed, content, unwilling to come out of hiding. But then her stomach growls loud enough for both of them to hear. "I stand by what I said."

"Come on, time to get up." Weiss tries to move but can do no more than lift her head as Ruby's arm belts across her chest. Her entire body molds around her, chin tucking into her shoulder, the top of her head against Weiss' cheek.

"Please," a little whimper, "just a little longer."

"All right."

Weiss swallows down the worry of Yang catching them for the time being -a worry that more so springs from an inability to gauge her reaction than anything else. Last night was more than enough to show Weiss how different she was, so there was no way of knowing how giving Ruby this sort of attention would make her feel. Ruby had just come back into her life after ten months of  _zero contact_ , Weiss couldn't ignore the potential fallout of Yang thinking Weiss was trying to take her little sister away.

But for now that anxiety is forgotten.

"You were quiet last night...did you have any nightmares?"

Ruby takes an easy breath. "No."

"Good." Weiss finds a little relief. For nearly two months they had spent a great deal of time together, allowing each of them to see traces of the toll their last night at Beacon had taken on them. Weiss scrambled in little ways to maintain control, to stand by her own judgment and not be influenced by anyone else. Ruby regularly struggled with multiple degrees of searing guilt. Weiss had woken to her sleep talking before, once to a sobbing shriek of Pyrrha's name. Since then she has been genuinely worried for Ruby. Since then she has made it a habit to sleep a little lighter, to be ready if Ruby needed her.

"...If I had just-,"

"Ruby," Weiss stops her, her tone firmer than a whisper but still quiet, "don't.  _If_ won't change what is."

"I know, but,"

"Not buts. You did your best...we all did," though those last few words weren't as confident as the first. "Sometimes your best just isn't good enough." and she internally cringes, hearing her father's words in her head over her own. Then her heart clenches at the tiny sniffle and Ruby's shudder against her. "No one's perfect, but we can't let that make us stop fighting."

"I  _know_ , but,"

"Ruby Rose, I said no buts." she insists gently, shifting a little to maneuver her arm under Ruby's head, bending at the elbow to pull her a little closer. Without thinking her slender fingers find silken strands and smooth over them. "I'm not trying to tell you not to feel guilty, I can't decide that for you...I just want...please don't dwell on the past too much. I still have every intention to fight for  _right now_ ...but I can't do that without you. I know that. If I try, I'll lose." Just as she has always lost when she thought herself too big to fail. "But I'll be damned if I just wait around for someone to put a bullet between my eyes."

Ruby shudders again, remembering the mess of the funeral. It was the first time the sound of gunfire had ever made her jump.

"M-maybe...you're right. It's just hard sometimes."

"I know." Weiss nuzzles Ruby's hair.

They're quiet for a spell. Weiss almost falls back to sleep, her eyelids growing steadily heavier.

Then "Do you think Blake is okay?"

Her eyes close and her brow slowly tightens. "I certainly hope so." is all she says, effectively dropping the subject. A part of her just didn't have the strength to discuss it right now. She hopes the next stretch of quiet lasts a little longer. An extra hour of sleep sounds  _so good_ .

"Hey, sorry to interrupt again," Taiyang leans through the doorway once more, looking genuinely remorseful over his intrusion. "Ruby, your scroll went off."

Zwei yips and grumbles erupt from Yang as Ruby squirms out of the tangle of bodies, crawling unceremoniously over Weiss to stumble onto the floor. Pushing passed her father with a quick "thank you" she jogs into her bedroom, diving and sliding across the top of her bed for her backpack.

Scroll signal in Vale was laughable at best even before Beacon collapsed, nowadays most people didn't bother to remember the little device when in proximity of Patch and other outlying villages. This is one of the reasons Ruby is so quick to find hers, knowing if a message actually made it through, it could only be a matter of seconds before she lost the ability to respond. She fumbles with her backpack feverishly, clawing through its biggest pocket.

Ruby swipes dust from the screen with her palm, tapping the surface to bring it to life. She sees a notification for a text and immediately prods at the icon with her finger. Her heart jumps when she sees it's from Jaune.

"What is it, Ruby?"

She doesn't answer her father right away, she's reading the text. Over and over her eyes scan the words, her mind struggling to accept what they say.

_Stuck at Sanctum. Ren is sick. Respond if you can._

The guilt is surging in her stomach. She never should have left them.

 

_(IV)_

Home is where the heart is, and if Cinder Fall could grasp the concept of such a thing, she would keep it here.

There's no way of knowing exactly when the cavern had been built or if humans had done it and not the cascading falls that conceal the main entrance from prying eyes. Behind the roaring water the solid face of rust colored rock opens up into a yawning emptiness, and within that emptiness a dwelling has been meticulously chiseled and shaped. The only light inside is a single lantern, its gentle amber glow revealing the heavy wooden door. Inside is a cavernous room lined with columns that lead to the only set of carved stairs in the place. There are countless passages and countless rooms whose unfinished stone walls are hidden behind rich tapestries depicting bygone lives and eras. It's a place that could take the average person hours to fully navigate, days to find all of its nooks and crannies.

When she is here Cinder tends to keep herself tucked away, secluded in a chamber that no one else ever enters, not without permission which she is keen to ration out in starvation portions and only to a select few. Like a wyrm covetous of their horde.

The chamber is a carved hemisphere, the ceiling and floor almost flawlessly smooth. The reddened rock of the walls is decorated with carvings of packs of wolves chasing a lone stag, several scenes that reveal the culmination of the hunt. In the center of the room is a pit partially covered with an incomplete dome of coral colored stained glass and wrought iron, the metal twisted into coils and arches. A fire always burns within in, courtesy of the Fall Maiden's magic, and the smoke rises through a vent in the ceiling that reaches the surface near the summit of the falls. The steady purr of the flames is so soothing. There is a recess in the wall opposing the only door in or out, carved by a diversion in the river that feeds the falls through the bedrock. Cinder has made it her personal bathing pool.

Her bed is a raised slab of stone large enough for three draped in crimson and sable silks and lush animal pelts all piled together. Cinder lounges here atop a stretch of bear skin, comfortably nude with warm contentment on her face. One hand toys with a coil of her own hair, the other fans over her stomach. A deep, leisurely breath expands her chest and pushes up her breasts until she exhales like a satisfied cat. With no real rush she rolls onto her belly, stretching her arms out and tipping her head back, little pops working out of her spine. She props her head on the heel of one palm, vibrant amber eyes settling on the other body in the bed, a smug smile melting into her lips.

It's amusing to watch Neo sleep, to see first-hand the antithesis to her natural state of constant silent mischief. For months Cinder had been convinced she had lost her over Beacon only to have the girl show up with Roman's torn and filthy bowler clutched in her hands. She would admit a certain happiness to see her safe; it would have been such a tragic waste to lose such an incredible fighter and thief. This stroke of luck stirs a desire to keep Neo close.

With little consideration she pulls aside the fur covering Neo's body, her grin widening as the smaller woman flinches and curls up at the rush of cool air against her bare skin. Cinder spies the black queen mark just above her navel and beside a deep and blushing bite mark, satisfaction blossoming through her. She has never been one to pass up an opportunity, so there had been no reservations in taking Neo as one of her Guardians -and while the taking needn't be as literal as it was, it certainly made the endeavor much more fun. Affection kept them loyal, and a swift hand kept them obedient.

And Neo had been all too eager to accept the invitation. With Roman gone, Cinder is all she has.

Cinder feels a shift in the air of the room, feels it on her aura like a gossamer caress. Her smile dissolves into mild disappointment as she has no desire to leave her private chamber just yet. But after a moment between shifting her eyes from the door to Neo's naked body and back again, she shrugs in resignation. There is work to do and it has no intention of waiting.

Cinder fetches a wine colored robe to wrap around herself before slipping out into the corridor, the whisper of silk smoothing over stone echoes gently and her amber eyes burn in the diminished light. The passage opens up to the main chamber at the top of the sole staircase. She looks down from the landing to see Emerald sitting on the lowest step.

"Welcome back." her voice rebounds off the walls, but otherwise receives no answer. The makings of a scowl pull thin lines around her eyes. The expression holds as she descends the stairs with an irritated tension in her back and shoulders. The muscles in her jaw bunch as she reaches the landing, meaning to address Emerald again in a firmer tone thinking it would garner a more proper response, but she bites back the words. Copper stains and ash smudge over the lower portion of her left leg, the fabric of her clothes full of holes and looking to have been eaten away. Cinder can see the burns that start at her ankle and work up her leg, partly concealed. She kneels in front of Emerald, unable to catch her gaze as her eyes are screwed painfully shut. One sable brow lifts, her mouth working into a snarl with a hint of disgust. One of Mercury's prosthetic legs is clutched in Emerald's hand.

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed."

Cinder turns at the sound of Mercury's discontented voice, watching as the young man hops across the floor, one arm out to maintain his balance and the other curled securely around a medical supply box.

"Who?"

"Well," he reaches the landing and sits down, panting. " _First_ it was some of those snot nosed rejects from Beacon, the ones Nikos had been dragging around."

"First?"

He nods as he puts the box in his lap and flips the top open, one hand fishing through it. "Yeah. _Then_ those _fucking_ faunus showed up. Bitch busted one of my legs _right off_. I _knew_ you should've just left those savages alone instead of f-,"

"I thought you lost them in Risk?" she cuts him off.

"I thought we did too," he turns his head, showing off the split welt across his face, "but I guess _not_. They came around just after your attack dog did."

Cinder feels a flutter of amusement in her chest but hides it behind a mask of concern tinged with frustration. "Were you able to get what I asked for?"

"Yeah." he grumbles as he pulls a bottle of pills from the box, passing it to Emerald who takes it after he shakes is once, alerting her to its presence. Then he rolls his shoulders to slip the mirror in its sling from his back, passing it forward. "Pretty sure it's still in one piece."

She takes it carefully, not wanting to show just how eager she is to have it in her hands. The molten gold in her eyes waxes brighter as she pulls away the leather and canvas, focusing on her own reflection through the dust on the surface of the mirror. She smooths her palm over the glass, the tip of one finger brushing against the aged hardwood frame. " _Excellent_." and the way she exhales makes the word sound hissed.

"Is it the one you've been looking for?"

"I don't believe so," Cinder still smiles as she shakes her head, "but I can still use this. Good work." She stands and starts around the staircase.

"Hey, a little help would be nice," he nips.

"I'll be right back." she responds quickly, firmly.

Behind the stairs is a space just big enough to walk through that conceals another passage, something one would have to know is there and be actively looking for in order to find. The passage itself is little more than shoulder width but Cinder walks it with easy grace, the tips of her elbows brushing stone as she cradles the mirror to her chest like a mother with her infant. Eager anticipation tingles through her from head to toe and turns the corners of her mouth upward. It's always _so wonderful_ when a plan starts coming together.

The corridor doesn't go very far and ends at a heavy wooden door much like the main entrance. Cinder opens it with a flick of her wrist, a symbol matching the tattoo on her back flaring bright red before the lock comes undone and she pushes through. She's sure to close the door behind her.

The chamber inside is nearly empty and poorly fashioned, likely meant to be little more than a storage room when it was made. With a gentle push of magic Cinder lights the dormant torches on the wall, revealing the uneven features of the walls and the dusty but ornate wooden table a few steps away. Atop the table are propped half a dozen more mirrors of varying size, shape, and decoration. Beside the table is a mirror as long as the average person is tall but narrow, its frame winding with serpents and daggers. One of Cinder's favorites.

"That isn't mine."

Cinder sets the mirror down on the table, shivering through the cold feeling crawling up her back, the feeling of knowing you share a room with a corpse. With no apparent rush Cinder moves to stand in front of the body length mirror, neither startled nor comforted to not find her reflection in it.

"I know, but it still counts for something, doesn't it?" Cinder crosses her arms over her stomach, expression neutral. Smoldering gold meets bloody hellfire in the glass, Salem glaring from the other side. "Besides, you can't expect me to quickly find something even _you_ can't discern the location of. I'm doing the best I can at the moment. And you're _certain_ it hasn't been broken?"

" _Positive_." the Witch bites back. "Our situation as a whole would be _monumentally_ different if that were the case."

"To say the least." Cinder nods once. "But I will need some time before going in search of the next one."

"Very well, but," red and black eyes thin, perilous, "don't you have some children to kill?"

Cinder sighs with a hum, one palm opening up to flare her fingers. "Again, I'm doing my best."

"Your sniveling _lackeys_ are doing _their_ best, which simply isn't good enough. How much more do I need to give before I get results?"

The fire of her soul stirs and she resists the grin that tugs on her mouth. _Don't tempt the devil._ "Is there a way to send Manticore to this side permanently?"

"Do you have a mirror large enough for it to pass through?"

A finger hooks around her chin, her brow knits, "No," then she looks to the collection of mirrors on the table. That smirk she's been holding in pulls her mouth wide enough to show teeth. "But I can make one." The smile only widens further, becomes wolfish when Cinder sees the uncertain thinness of Salem's eyes.

The witch watches as best as she can, her image disappearing from the tall mirror and reappearing in another. Just in time to watch as Cinder takes one of the smaller ones, lifts it over her head, and smashes it on the ground.

" _What are you doing?! Are you mad?!_ " she shrieks, the glass vibrating with sound.

A wild, joyous madness paints Cinders features as she breaks the mirrors one by one, frames buckling and warping with the force of the impact, silvery shards scattering across the stone floor. Salem's eyes blaze as Cinder lifts up and smashes the mirror her image inhabits, snarling at her laughter when it shatters. Lastly the body-length mirror is pulled away from the wall with a single hooked finger.

For a moment the chamber is quiet, Cinder standing amidst the fractured glass and contemplating the pieces at her feet. Then there is a heated flux of aura as Cinder raises both hands to waist level, each shard and sliver lifting up from the floor to levitate in the air. Her palms start glowing to match her eyes, the light intensifying and spreading to each individual bit of glass. For a moment she is encircled by a white hot nebula, the fragments losing their rigid shape and becoming more like quicksilver. Slowly, steadily, she turns her hands over, wielding the magic coupled with her semblance to bring the liquid glass together into a perfect, smooth sphere that glows like a small sun. With just as much precision she pushes outward, the sphere collapsing into a near paper thin oval, and then stretches it as long and wide as she can without it breaking apart.

While it's still hot she moves the liquid glass towards the wall, pushing with gentle purpose until the stone heats and gives under the insistent pressure. Just a few centimeters is deep enough to keep it upright, and she pulls back the magic like a veil when she is satisfied. The white glow gradually dissipates to yellow, orange, red, and then back to its original luster. Though the satisfaction doesn't show on Cinder's face until her own reflection is usurped by Salem's once again.

"That was incredibly risky." the Witch scolds, tight jawed.

Cinder clicks her tongue. "But it worked, didn't it? And the magic is still intact,"

"True enough." she seems loathe to admit.

A luxurious, quiet giggle vibrates through her. "So?"

"I'll send Manticore when you _finally_ have something for it to hunt."

Cinder has to fight the knee-jerk need to roll her eyes. "Fine. Give Ozpin my regards, won't you?"

No response, the Witch's image disappears, leaving Cinder to stare at her own lupine grin.

 

 

Author's Note: So yeah, this is usually my benchmark chapter, meaning there is no telling when the next one will be out or what it might contain. The first five are my gauge, so it is literally up in the air right now. Any questions or comments are welcome, though questions concerning what is coming up plot-wise I might not be able to fully divulge. Hope you're enjoying it so far, and I hope to see you again soon.

 


	6. Chapter Five

Always an early riser. Whether she had to or not, Weiss always got up at the same time. Though keeping that regimen is a little more difficult to keep these days. Her sleep is deeper, more restful, and that's a hard thing to willingly put aside for her particular breed of daily cares.

Awareness comes back steadily, her first breath feeling cold in her lungs but vitalizing. The chill inches through her body, waking her muscles and encouraging her to stretch. One arm goes up from the bed, one leg tucking upward as well, the other half of her limbs are pinned to the mattress. She blinks her vision clear, opals catching meager morning light through an airship porthole before she turns her head away.

 _Again_? She wonders silently at the mess of dark hair at her shoulder. Her brow knits briefly, mild annoyance pulling them together, but with a little sigh the expression smooths and she chances to press her cheek to the top of Ruby's head. Barracks on an airship this size were rather compact, meant for a crew of no more than ten, and the few beds were arranged on top of one another. Weiss didn't ignore the bare bones likeness to their dorm room when she first came aboard yesterday, but it had been a bittersweet reminder that she allowed to pass rather quickly. But Ruby somehow winding up in her bed is a relatively new development, one she actually doesn't mind at any rate. Even though she snores on occasion.

Weiss has to fight a little to get out of bed, making an effort not to wake her but also having to fight herself free of Ruby's grip all the while trying not to fall off the top bunk. Wordless grunts of protest punctuate the little tugs of Weiss' arm from Ruby's hands. When she's finally free, ignoring the little shiver at the loss of contact, she starts to methodically preen and prepare herself for the day. She leaves the barracks perfectly pressed, per the usual.

She stifles a yawn behind her palm as she walks through the sliding door to the mess hall, one brow quirking as she considers for the hundredth time how it got that name because, frankly, she's never seen a cleaner place outside of her own home. It's a modest dining area, nothing like what some of the fleet flagships boast, but the food is fresh and made to order, and the coffee isn't so strong it'll change your religion. Half way to the counter her gaze is snatched up by a bright yellow mass, looking to see the back of Yang's head. There's a fondness blossoming in her chest right beside the curiosity of whether or not the state of her hair was from a restless sleep or just...that way. Her expression contorts suddenly at the smell of something just _awful_.

Waiting for her breakfast at the counter she taps the top of it with one pale painted nail, still staring at Yang, initially drawn to the still powerful looking muscles in her back through a white tank top. She tries to stay away from the stump, mostly suspicious that somehow Yang would _know_ if she started gawking. She watches the brawler shift in her seat, her hand coming into view and revealing the cigarette pinched between her thumb and index finger. Weiss lifts one snowy brow, unimpressed. The expression holds even after the chef passes her a tray and she starts away from the counter.

"Smoking isn't permitted on the airship." she says casually, appearing from behind. "In fact, the sign's on the wall next to you."

"Hm? Oh, morning," Yang greets, taking another drag and exhaling in the other direction.

She sits. "Could you put it out?"

"In a minute."

Weiss brow knits. "Please?"

"When I'm done."

Weiss' eyes thin and she reaches out _ever so gently_ with her aura, the pointer finger on one hand flinching upward to help her focus. The next time Yang puts the cigarette to her mouth she jerks, hand snapping away from her mouth so she could see for herself the lack of smoke coiling from the end. A moment longer and she registers the icy coldness against the pads of her fingers, her brows popping towards her hairline.

"You little shit," she laughs, setting the frozen cigarette down on the table. "Nice trick."

"I've been practicing." Weiss smiles, comfortably smug as she takes a knife and fork to her breakfast.

She shakes her head. "...It's not that I didn't believe it when Uncle Qrow told me, I just...can't quite wrap my head around it."

"I can't either. Not entirely." Only in quieter moments, only when she sees the change in her eyes in the mirror, or when she tries to summon and the glyphs appear with almost no effort. "It's...quite something."

Yang nods, slouching in her seat, pushing the frozen cigarette back and forth.

"So when did you pick up such a nasty habit?"

"A few months ago," Yang sniffs, "something to keep my hand busy." Something to keep her mind off of the numbing frustration of struggling to do the most mundane things.

"Well you're going to have to drop it." she takes a bite, chews and swallows. Schnee's don't talk with their mouths full. "It'll raise your blood pressure."

"So?"

"They won't go through with the procedure if your vitals are even a little outside a normal range. That is...if that's still what you want."

"Oh sure." Yang nods, unfazed. "Should be easy. It's not a habit really, just when I'm bored." _Or when I'm jonesing for a lay and can't handle fighting to rub one out with my off hand._ Kind of like now, when just sitting on a washing machine during the spin cycle could get her off. Easy.

"Then we'll just have to find a way to keep you occupied."

Yang chuckles to herself. God knew what the uptight heiress had in mind. Canasta or some other stupid highbrow shit.

"And,"

Lilac eyes lift, expecting to meet Weiss' gaze to instead finds her brow knitted almost too tight, eyes on her plate.

"I...I don't want to impose but...I think you should consider seeing a councilor before the operation."

"What for?"

"I just," she pauses, then takes a stabilizing breath and sets down her utensils. "I'm worried. I feel like...I can't help but feel like you're...angry."

"Of course I'm angry." Yang grins, scratching the back of her head. But the easy grin on her face falters, fades, and she leans on the table by her elbow. She's angry because she still needs her father's help to get dressed at eighteen years old. She's angry because she can't tie her own shoes or ride her motorcycle - _god that was one of the worst things_ . She's angry because nothing makes the phantom pain stop so she lays in bed at night sweating through it while biting her tongue. "But not at you. I couldn't be mad at you _or_ Ruby."

"And Blake?" Weiss feels a heated prickle against her aura.

"...Just angry that she felt like she couldn't come to us. She promised, but...you know."

Weiss only nods.

"Ruby is doing what she thinks is best, I can't hold that against her. That just wouldn't be fair. And you," Yang has to stop and think of the right words. "If I'm angry at you it's because I'm spoiled and like to think it's all about me. I forget that people have their own lives that don't revolve around me. You couldn't control your dad, you couldn't keep him from taking you back to Atlas, so,"

Weiss exhales, a little relieved.

"Sorry about that, by the way."

For a moment she looks up, mild confusion there for a split second before it morphs into vulnerability. "I'll be all right." is all she says.

"And Winter? How is she?"

"The last report I received from her doctor says she was awake and responsive." the reply is strangely textbook, almost unfeeling. "Hopefully I'll have a chance to visit with her when we get back. Which reminds me, there will be papers for you to sign when we arrive."

"...Um, can you forge my signature or something?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Weiss sputters, wiping her mouth on a napkin. "Actually, we can take fingerprint verification now, so no worries about that."

"Sounds fancy." out of reflex she smirks and reaches into her tank top -the black lettering on the front proudly declaring _Haute Mess-_ to the space between her breasts where she keeps a small box of cigarettes and her lighter. Before she can pull them out her eyes are pulled up to meet Weiss', a razor's edge inching through the glare, convincing her to just leave them be. "God, what are you, my mother?"

"No, _I'm_ actually here for you." then her features stretch, gaping. "Oh, that was terribly rude."

"But it's true, so it's still funny." Yang had to admit it that was a good one, especially for Weiss. She still has a faint itch to reach for her cigarettes, but strums her fingertips over the pad of her thumb instead. "Speaking of which...did I thank you?"

"Hm?"

"For saving my butt."

"You did, don't you remember?"

A cock-eyed smirk. "In my defense, I was _really_ hung over."

Weiss giggles and then wipes her mouth again. "Oh, I know. But I'm pretty sure I heard a _thank you_ somewhere between the vomit and you laughing at yourself." Which the combination of those two things even being possible blows her mind. For some unfathomable reason, Yang Xiaolong thought the sound of herself retching was hilarious. "Though, I'm curious,"

"About?"

"You didn't seem too bothered by that woman trying to kill you."

Yang scoffs. "What can I say, whiskey takes me to a dark place after a few shots. Besides, I wasn't even aware of that until you showed up. I was just going to take her home."

Weiss drops her fork, stainless steel chiming against hard plastic. Initially her thoughts fly to the potential of Yang getting her father tangled up in that mess along with Zwei, but then the phrase takes its intended meaning and she blinks, surprised. "You meant to sleep with her?"

"Yeah. And?" one brow tips upward, mouth neutral. "Got a problem with it?"

"Considering what she wanted to do to you,"

Yang tosses her head towards her shoulder, golden mane moving in congress with the gesture, and she gives Weiss a slanted glance. "Well, when you're looking at everything through a thick sheen of liquor, everything's a come-on." _And I was needy as hell._ Yang has been needy for a while, in all honesty. She has an itch bad enough to hump just about anything with a pulse, and for a moment she just contemplates Weiss, watching her shake her head and return to her food. Yang would take her if she asked. Sure enough, she'd sit her on the table -sating a months old curiosity that she's only on-again-off-again entertained- and ruck her skirt up around her waist to feverishly, meticulously dismantle that pristine prettiness of hers in search of something that makes the lofty heiress seem more human.

Yang bites her tongue. She may be stupid, but she wasn't that careless. Doing that would hurt all the wrong people in all the worst ways.

Better to change the subject altogether.

"Has Ruby gotten any more texts from Jaune? Or calls? We should be in Mistrali airspace..."

"Not that I've heard." she finishes the last bite and crosses her silverware on the plate before covering it with a napkin and pushing it aside.

"Vomit boy," Yang sighs with a certain fondness. "I hope he's all right, Ren and Nora too...I don't know if Ruby will be able to handle it if they're not."

Weiss feels her heart hitch, the same notion crossing the back of her mind like a heavy shadow. Yang hasn't seen the extent of Ruby's battle with her guilt, but she was already worried, and that alone gave Weiss pause. Then again, being as close a set of sisters as they, perhaps Yang was privy to some sort of link that she and Ruby simply weren't. But Weiss shudders all the same, making a conscious effort to not let her mind wander too far into the dark. All she knows is that any situation short of salvageable stood to break Ruby, and nothing could prepare Weiss for that.

"It's because of me." Weiss exhales, sounding pitiful. "She wouldn't have left them if-,"

"If some psycho hadn't tried to ice you and your family." It takes every ounce of her self control not to laugh at her own play on words, so she scowls to help keep it down. "Don't blame yourself for Ruby's choices, okay? Just," vulnerability creeps into her stern features, her lips pulling into a thin line as her line of sight breaks away, "just help her handle the consequences." Because her baby sister is still so young, maybe still unprepared to shoulder the weight of these things. She's always been so optimistic, she wasn't ready for that to be truly tested, wasn't ready to face the fact that things don't always turn out the way you think they should.

"Of course I will. Why would I do anything else?"

"I know you're neck-deep in your own mess right now, with the company and everything."

"Fair enough." a little nod and a sideways glance. "But...I'm going to do my best for her. I promise." Though a little voice in the back of her head tells her how useless that will be. Her best has never been good enough, not for anyone.

"Oh I know." Yang smirks.

One white brow spikes, the pink scar over her eye stretching a little.

Yang laughs softly at her expression. "You said 'I love you' in your sleep."

" _Excuse me_?"

"Again, hungover, not deaf."

Weiss straightens, quiet shock in her eyes and gentle redness in her cheeks as she sputters. "Y-Yang, I don't know what you're thinking -Ruby and I, we just," She just wants to hold her hand and not feel so alone and hug her and disappear in her warmth and...oh god.

"I'm not thinking anything." Yang gestures with her hand, dismissive. "You're her best friend -after _me_ of course- and she counts on you. I could be blind and still see that. And whether you know it or not, she's always tried to reach out to you, especially after the Emerald Forest. You remember?"

Her expression softens, hands folding together atop the table. She slowly nods.

"So just be there, okay? Be her friend. After that...it's none of my business, but I'll say this," Yang leans forward, a little redness ringing the lilac in her eyes. "Don't make her cry or, Maiden or not, I'll find you."

Weiss only nods.

 

_(II)_

It's early morning in Sanctum, and Jaune didn't sleep last night.

Dressed in a shirt and sweatpants on loan from the academy -all of their clothes had to be laundered after coming in from the swamp- Jaune sits on the edge of his bed in the infirmary, hunched with his elbows propped on his thighs and his mouth pressed into his folded hands. He's sat this way almost all night, rarely moving to either pace the floor or use the facilities. His body buzzes uncomfortably, like his skin doesn't fit right, and while he's felt like this for a while, the sensation has hit a fever pitch.

Jaune watches over Ren and Nora, he can't even consider doing anything else. He finds himself wandering to Nora's bed off and on throughout the night, her sleep fitful. She has started sweating and throwing up like Ren, though not nearly as bad. She still has a little color in her face and wakes for long periods, whereas Ren hasn't opened his eyes in nearly two days and his skin is the most unsettling shade of gray. The doctors here keep telling him he'll be all right, that the bacterial infection he contracted from the polluted water just needs to run its course, but that does little to soothe him. He still feels as bent and numb as yesterday.

The faunus try to keep him company, Tag more so than Billy. The few times he's seen the bison it was brief, a few passing questions of marginal concern. He wants to think they're just reserved, not really uncaring like they sound. Tag is the exact opposite. She sits with him, close to his side, and talks to him at length. She brings him food even though he has no appetite, accepting the gesture so as not to seem rude. It's easy because she seems so maternal to him, likely not much older than his own mother. She moves between him and Ren and Nora, occasionally putting a gentle hand on them, a ripple of energy working through the brief connection. _They'll be all right_ , she says, _they're auras are still strong._ And that somehow brings him more comfort than the word of the doctors.

"Any word back from your friends?" Tag speaks softly, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Yeah." A short, to-the-point response of _I'm on my way_. "I don't know when they'll get here."

"But that's good, isn't it? It means they're all right,"

"I guess so." he takes a deep breath, feeling the pulse of Tag's aura as he registers the bulk of her tail between them. He had been watching the news in passing on the ward keeper's small television, a flat screen monitor perched on his desk, and had yet to see anything in relation to a successful assassination. He could only assume Ruby reached Weiss in time. Something in him feels bitter at the thought, and something else is beyond caring. Right now he's so fixated on making sure that Ren's chest still rises and falls that he simply can't be bothered with anything else.

When Nora suddenly coughs it jars him, his knee-jerk reaction is to stand up and move around to her bed. The coughing doesn't stop and he helps her sit up, her eyes still closed as if sleeping. Her hands search for the edge of the bed to hold onto, leaning over it unsteadily. Jaune snags the waste bin with his foot and pulls it over just in time to catch the mess that comes from her mouth. When the fit passes her helps her lie down again after offering her a few sips from a bottle of water.

It doesn't take long for Nora to fall back to sleep -she's already exhausted- and when her breaths fall into a steady rhythm Jaune goes back to his previous place. Tag is smiling at him, not seeming to mind that he just stares at the floor.

"It's like you've done this before."

"I have seven sisters." he says with a puff of air, like it should be enough to explain everything. The way Tag nods shows that it does.

"They're fortunate to have you."

A little, caustic laugh. _The hell they are._

"...Have I said something wrong?"

"No. It's nothing."

Tag leans forward, angling her head to try and catch his distant gaze. She knows that's not true, her aura bristling at his deflection. However she can see something in his face, something commingling with the dark circles and the redness in his eyes. Pain. Frustration. Things that make her heart clench.

"You need to sleep." she says instead. Now isn't the time to pressure him.

"I can't."

"What if I could help, would you let me?"

He pushes his hand through his hair, raking his scalp. "...Yeah. I guess."

She smiles a little wider, standing up, gesturing with her hand for him to lie down. She tries not to laugh at the flicker of confusion on his face. When he settles she kneels beside the bed. "Ready?"

"Sure." _This should be good._ He just registers the gentle touch of her knuckle to his temple, a warmth washing over his aura, and then nothing.

Looking only a little smug Tag nods, smoothing a few stray blond strands from his forehead before standing up. She leaves the ward and makes her way out into the corridor, then out to Sanctum's courtyard. Her dark eyes fix on the fountain at the center of the complex, on the big shadow of a shape sitting on its edge. She walks through the grass to reach it, not on the large flagstones that just feel unnatural. All of Sanctum feels like that to her, save for the few places they have seen that still grow green. She stomachs the feel of cool marble under her bare feet as she reaches the fountain, walking its narrow rim with her tail lazily swishing back and forth.

"How's the boy?"

Tag smiles, feeling Billy's energy brush against hers in acknowledgment. "He's asleep, finally." She comes to sit beside her Guardian, tucking against their massive frame. "Have you slept?"

"A while. It's difficult here." Much like Tag they feel a strange aversion to the place, something that rubs them the wrong way and won't let them fully relax.

"Have you eaten?"

"No." they grip the reptile skin bag at their side with their hand, giving it a shake. "My bag is empty."

"They will give you food inside, it's not good for you to go without."

"I know." Billy pulls her in, tucking a large hand under one leg to hoist her into their lap. They like the feel of her weight, find it comforting. "Once the sun is up and the humans are awake. Don't worry."

She remembers when they were younger, how they would faint dead away if they didn't eat every few hours. Now that they're older -pushing passed fifty with gray in their hair- it hasn't improved. "If you insist," Tag sighs in resignation. "Silly old bison."

A deep laugh vibrates through them. "Did you ask the boy about the Grimm?"

"No, he's not of the mind for talk of that." she leans against their chest, feeling the hard leather of their binder beneath her shoulder. "His pack mates are much too sick. But more of his friends are coming, maybe they know something."

Billy hums with a nod. "I wish Hunter Holiday could have told us more."

Tag nods as well. Dakota Holiday is a Sanctum instructor that first turned them on to word of Caissa and the black queen insignia, having lived there -apparently- before it was abandoned. They asked about the significance of the mirror, only to receive a funny look from the dark skinned man. All he had to say about it were rumors and gossip of Witches that is nearly twenty years old. And when they tried to question him as to how the little town came to be deserted, he said next to nothing. He seemed visibly worried that someone would hear if he said anything about it. That alone raised ten times as many questions as when they started.

"Perhaps he would have been more keen to speak if he knew who you really are."

"I disagree." Tag shakes her head. "Besides, aren't you the one always reminding me to keep my secrets _secret_?"

"...There's that. My apologies."

Tag laughs, and then her jaws part with a gut deep yawn. Then she shifts to sit between their thighs, sprawling across their lap with her head cradled in the crook of their tree-trunk arm.

"Sleep. We have a little time."

"I'm not sleepy, just need to rest my eyes." Tag sighs, content.

"My mistake." Billy smiles. They know better, sure enough as the woman goes quiet and starts to softly snore.

Billy gently rocks back and forth, knowing it will help keep her down, their free hand scratching at the black and white paint on their face unconsciously. The Dust in it is almost depleted, a little worry buzzing through their chest. Maybe there is a butcher in this massive village somewhere that would be willing to part with the animal fat they need to make more. Where would they even begin to look for a butcher in a place this big? The faunus takes a deep breath, silver eyes set in uncertainty. They can't imagine a place like this ever springing up in their jungle home, can't wrap their head around how humans stand to live in it, and the thought makes them miss Menagerie that much more.

After an hour or so the wash of gray across the landscape is chased away by the sun beginning to burn on the horizon. Billy blinks, shying from the sudden onslaught of light in their face. The flinch makes Tag stir but not immediately wake, the otter tucking closer to Billy's chest. It will be a few minutes more before her eyes open and she smoothly straightens, not startled but with her attention obviously jerked by something. Billy watches her stand up, curious but quiet. Tag steps away from the fountain, her chin tipping steadily upward, her eyes thinning to focus on something above the horizon.

"Look there," she points, "a star."

"...but it's moving."

Oddly enough, it is. Tag watches it a little longer and notices how it seems to follow the horizon to the east for a moment before appearing to go the opposite direction. Then it starts to grow larger, coming closer.

"...Now it looks like a bird. Mind you, not like one _I've_ ever seen, but," Billy eases to their feet, "how on earth..."

"That's no bird." Tag gapes. "First the humans have iron boxes that roll by themselves and now they fly. Nature's mercy,"

"Iron can't fly." Billy shakes their head, casting a shadow over Tag as they stand beside her. "...It has to be some sort of magic."

Tag nods, readily agreeing. It has to be magic, she felt it distinctly when it pulled her out of her delicate sleep. It had been a strangely abrasive...chill just beneath her skin.

 

The airship touches down on a stretch of asphalt outside of Sanctum's courtyard, its contents lurching with the resounding _shunk_ of its reconnection with the ground. The hatch at its back end folds open, allowing the four humans waiting to walk in time down the ramp. Ruby brings up the rear with her uncle in the front, Weiss and Yang between them. She notices a weird stiffness in the way her partner walks, and her hands fuss together in front of her, a behavior she doesn't usually see unless Weiss is anxious.

Ruby lengthens her strides to catch up. "What's wrong?"

"Hm?" Her ponytail whips as she quickly turns her head. "Oh, nothing, just..."

"Look, Weiss, whatever Yang said-,"

"No, it's not that." Not entirely, though Yang's friendly warning had been echoing between her ears. "Just...do you feel something? Because I do."

"...No. What is it?"

"Just...I don't know how to describe it." It's something like yet _unlike_ Ruby's presence. There is nothing soothing or reassuring about this heated brush against her aura, and it seems to _pull_ on her like a string of anxiety attached to the middle of her chest. She can almost sense where it's coming from, but can't fully suss it out.

Ruby manages one hand between hers, stilling them as she laces their fingers together. She flashes that comfortable, optimistic smile. It's a smile that reminds Weiss that she isn't alone. _I'm here for you._ And as much as she appreciates and reciprocates the gesture, it does nothing to settle the uneasiness churning through her. The sensation pitches, making her body tense as they enter Sanctum's courtyard, that string pulling more taught by degrees and demanding more of her attention. Like an itch she can't reach.

Qrow squints as he walks, his neck craning forward to focus on the little movement perhaps a dozen yards ahead of him. From here and with his liquor blurred vision he can only make out dark smudges at the foot of what he assumes is some sort of water feature. He intends to ignore them, his steps unaltered, but has a sinking feeling that they won't ignore _him._

"Hey,"

Qrow Branwen is a fucking psychic.

"They look like faunus, Uncle Qrow. Do you know them?" Yang asks, her head turned.

"I guess we're about to find out." he grumbles, stopping as he sees the smudges drawing closer in his unfocused peripherals. The girls gather round behind him, Ruby keeping at least one step ahead of Weiss out of instinct. Turning to face them, Qrow finds himself nose to collar bone with the tallest one. He looks up, a stupid smirk stretching his mouth. "Well hey up there, what beanstalk did you fall out of?"

"I recognize you."

"Yeah, I get that. Can't say the feeling is mutual though." he laughs, mostly to himself. "So which is it, do I owe you money or did I steal your lady?"

"Neither." comes a rough reply. "You came to my village nearly sixteen years ago, you and several others. One of them went by the name Ozpin."

Qrow blinks, features stretching. He rubs his eyes briefly, roughly, and then looks up again. "Funny...you didn't seem this tall when I was sober."

Weiss tries to focus on the continuing exchange as her gaze wants to pull to the side. Her fingers flex against Ruby's hand, trying to keep herself grounded, but it isn't working. She can't stop staring at the other faunus. At first she blames it on the splash of bright red paint on her face, but then the faunus looks back at her, the older woman making a face of distinct interest and curiosity. The look of someone seeing something for the very first time. The warm creeping feeling under her skin surges again. It's coming from _her_.

"So what are you doing so far from home, big-and-tall?" Qrow crosses his arms.

"Looking for Ozpin, among other things, though I've heard he hasn't been seen for some time."

"True enough." he nods.

"But _you_ were there." the faunus' face creases tightly into a hard scowl. "Perhaps _you_ can tell me what happened."

"As much as I would love to, I'm afraid me and these young ladies have shit to do. But I'd be more than happy to discuss this over a drink or two _later_."

When he tries to walk away the faunus' massive hand snatches the front of his shirt and jerks him back to center. "We'll discuss this _now_ ,"

"You'd better move that before I move it for you," he cautions with a gesturing dip of his chin, his brow knit and his lips thinned.

"Billy, stop. We don't have to do it like this." All the humans watch as the other faunus convinces Billy to loose their grip with just a touch of her hand on their forearm. "I'm willing to bet these are Jaune's friends."

Ruby sputters excitedly until the words form. "You've seen Jaune? Is he okay?"

"We have." a curt nod and a little smile. "He and his pack mates are sleeping, so why don't we all sit down and talk this out? _Without_ the posturing?"

"Uncle Qrow," Yang bumps him with the back of her hand as she almost whispers to him. "Look at his eyes."

"They." Tag corrects.

For a moment Yang just stares, a little stunned, lilac jumping from one faunus to the other. "Oh...sorry."

"What about it, kid?" Qrow pulls her attention back.

"They're just like Ruby's."

Billy cocks their head as Qrow stares up at them, squinting again. Ruby almost jumps between them, standing on the balls of her feet. "Oh, let me see!"

Tag smiles with a little laugh. "I knew it." Then she turns her head and looks Weiss straight in the eyes. "I knew you were a Maiden."

The other conversation falls away, Weiss pales and takes a recoiling half-step back. "H-how?"

"This girl is your Guardian, isn't she?"

"My what?"

Tag's brow quirks, and for a tense moment the two just stare at each other. "You...this must be new to you."

She flinches, appearing mildly offended. " _Clearly_. And how do _you_ know so much about it?"

Tag's smirk turns mischievous as she steps closer to the heiress. "Billy's been my Guardian for a long time -likely since _you_ were a baby, and I have been their Maiden."

Weiss bites her tongue against something brash perched there, a reflex reaction to someone making any reference to her obvious youth, and she focuses on Tag's eyes. The light catches the flicker of emeralds in her dark irises as Weiss feels a much less pressuring contact along her aura, a testing hand as opposed to a taught demand.

"What's your name?"

"...Weiss Schnee."

The faunus' brows lift, at least appearing impressed though the name is wholly unfamiliar. Likely one of the few people in all of Remnant that doesn't understand the weight of it. "Well met, Weiss Schnee, I'm Tag." and she offers a hand in greeting, quietly surprised when the human accepts and resisting the urge to laugh at her surprise when Tag takes hold of her wrist. Tag feels the chill again, but it isn't so intrusive, and by the look on Weiss' face, she's sure the human is feeling a similar sensation.

"Spring." Weiss says without meaning to, watching with quiet awe as Tag nods. "Will...are you here to help us?"

"I would like to think so. Nature isn't known for bringing the likes of us together by chance."

 

 

Author's Note: That last part was really hard to write and I'm not sure why. If it feels like it doesn't fit, I feel you, but it's there all the same. Maybe it's meant to be, as first impressions tend to be awkward. I'm going to try really hard to update weekly or bi-weekly, depending on how this works out. True, no Team Evil this round, but I'm working on it. Writing villains is HARD. Questions and comments are always welcome.

 


	7. Chapter Six

_Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick...._

The first sensation that comes back to her is her feline ears moving against linen, turning like little radar dishes against a pillow to chase after what sounds so much like an old wooden clock. When the small bird figurine comes popping out the door and chimes the hour, her ears flatten against her scalp and she wakes with a start. Amber and black slitted eyes scan the room, blinking at the ample daylight coming in through a solitary stained glass window. She eases into sitting up, propping on her elbows with the expectation of discomfort but pleasantly surprised to find none. Once upright she pulls her hands down her face, briefly pressing her fingertips to her eyes. Then she pulls aside the afghan covering her legs and turns to put her feet on the floor. Only now does she realize her pants are gone, thighs bare save for the bandages on one.

Nothing about this place is familiar; not the malachite tile floors that lead to dark oak baseboards and oxidized copper colored walls or what look to be stone statues of monkeys sitting atop crown molding around the perimeter of the ceiling. The cuckoo-clock sits atop the frame of dark oak double doors. The walls are covered in dozens of glass and wood frames, shadow boxes full of preserved insects stuck on pins. One wall is nearly invisible, clotted with a just-so arrangement of mirrors that seemed to form a corona around a large one propped on the floor with an ornate wooden stand. It's iron frame is gold plated and expertly shaped into a collection of rabbits and butterflies -maybe moths- at its sides and corners, a nest of swords and daggers at the bottom, and an impressive crown at the top.

This room is full of all sorts of other objects, which strikes Blake as rather odd. Why would a bed be in -what appeared to be- a glorified store room?  _And where are my pants?_

Blake pushes her fingers over her scalp, reminding her of the tenderness lingering in the split near the base of one ear and making her wince with a little sucking hiss between her teeth. When she stands up, turning in place to get a better look at her surroundings, she spies her pants neatly folded on a well kept desk at the head of the bed. Maybe not so well as she spies a coffee mug with telling, aged brown stains around the rim. And in a way she is both comforted and anxious over the idea of not being alone. Before pulling her pants back on she chances a look beneath the bandages on her leg, seeing dried blood on the fabric but only the faintest white phantom of a wound on her flesh. She's able to push the bandages down her leg and kick them off with a toss of her foot. She'll find her thigh-high boots tucked beneath the bed and pulls them on. Gambol Shroud is on the desk alongside her dust coat. She moves quickly for the door, partly surprised when it opens with just a tug of the hooked brass handle.

The feeling of standing up too fast swamps her as she sets foot out of the room and into a corridor lined with stained glass, vaulted ceilings and a host of statues resembling knights. She takes two uneasy steps, incredible heat sweeping through her, and then hits her knees. Her aura ripples madly around her, her lungs scrambling to work even though she swears she's exhaling fire. Her eyes screw shut so she can't see the floor spin and her ears fold against her scalp against a dull roaring.

Then everything stills, her senses snapping back to center at the weight of a hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Belladonna, can you hear me?"

She tries to answer, her tongue dry and heavy in her mouth. Lifting her head feels impossible.

"Take it slowly."

That hand starts to push on her, help her straighten. Her chin still rests against her chest as she's able to sit back on her heels. Blake takes one deep breath, stabilizing, and then opens her eyes. "Professor Goodwitch?"

"Please, just Glynda." she makes a visible effort not to roll her eyes. "Think you can stand up?"

"Yes." a hesitant nod.

"Good, come with me."

Blake watches as Glynda begins walking along the corridor, the way Blake had initially intended to go, trying to quickly stand when she realizes her former teacher wasn't going to wait for her. It's so strange, unnerving even to see Glynda in such casual clothing. Outside of her typical skirt and blouse, the older woman has her hair tied up in a messy bun, a dark purple flannel shirt half buttoned and hanging free, and faded but still dark sweatpants that look perhaps a size too big with legs long enough to almost hide her slipper-clad feet.

"You brought me here?" Blake chances to ask, head turning this way and that to take in her surroundings.

"I did. How's your leg?"

"Fine."

Glynda nods once. "Do you remember what happened?"

Yes and no, but her response is an unsteady "It's fuzzy."

"Give yourself a little time."

Blake swallows, for the moment focusing on the  _flop-flop_ of Glynda's even steps. Then she braces herself to speak again. "I have a question."

"I imagine so."

"What was that room?"

Glynda takes a deep breath as they reach the end of the corridor, allowing Blake to step through the too narrow passage into the main area of the house first. "It is the heart of the house." she replies after a moment, gesturing for Blake to continue.

"...I get the feeling there's more to that statement than it seems."

"There is." she almost smiles. "Everything has a heart, everything with a life force has a core of its being, and this house is -in its own way- alive."

"I can see that it's old," Blake's head moves in a semicircle on her neck, looking up into the rafters and distracted by rainbow particles of dust caught in the light coming through more stained glass.

" _Quite_ ."

"But I guess that doesn't have much to do with it,"

"Not entirely true." Glynda cocks her head. "Magic ages like wine, and this house is full of some of the oldest."

"Wine that sits too long will turn to vinegar."

"Fair enough, but not in this case."

Blake nods, marking the firmness in her voice as a gauge to watch her words more carefully. "So what's special about the heart of the house?"

"To put it briefly, it neutralizes magic. Even mine. Inside that room I'm only able to use my semblance. I'd go into detail, but there are more important things we need to discuss at the moment."

"We do?"

" _Yes_ ."

Blake feels her feline ears fold back at a snap of static against her aura. For a moment she feels like she's back in Beacon, echoes of a Goodwitch grade scolding unfolding in her mind. She would smile if the memory had managed to bring her any sense of fondness.

Glynda walks her through the house, into another short corridor devoid of glass and statuary that opens up into what appears to be the kitchen. Blake can smell the dried herbs before she sees them hanging from the wall above a dark fireplace. She picks up on the first sputters of a teapot about to whistle. Sunlight from a pane of unpainted glass in the ceiling reflects off the collection of pans suspended over an island counter top. Glynda gestures to a row of stools wedged up against the island, Blake taking a seat with a silent nod.

"Coffee or tea?"

"Tea, please."

Blake watches her, her fingers lacing together and her thumbs fiddling to keep her mind occupied. Her sable brows climb towards her hairline as she sees Glynda fixing herself a cup of coffee, dumping spoonfuls of instant grounds into the cup one after another, likely much more than the average person could stand to. And no cream to speak of. How does she stand it?

Blake flattens the expression when Glynda passes her a cup. The first sip brings her resounding comfort, the stiffness in her muscles tapering off and becoming unnoticeable. "Thank you."

Glynda nods, wincing and clearing her throat after her own first mouthful of coffee. God, did it hurt to drink it? "Miss Belladonna, I'm going to be as straightforward with you as possible."

"I've always thought that straightforward is the only way you know how to be."

A marigold brow arches above the rim of her glasses, green eyes thinning. Not that the statement is untrue...

"Do you know the story of the Four Maidens?"

"I do." as avid a reader as she is.

"Good, that will save me some time." Glynda exhales, rounding the island to snatch up a stool, sitting herself on it just out of arm's reach of Blake. She sips her coffee again, cringes again. "But before we get too far into that, I  _need_ you to tell me -in  _excruciating_ detail- what happened between you and Raven Branwen."

Blake feels the blood fall out of her face, her ears folding back and the slits of her eyes thinning. Her spine tightens into a line and she can't blink. She tries to read Glynda's expression, finding nothing but a mild, searching curiosity full of expectation. She was expecting Blake to answer. No ifs, ands, or buts.

"I...sh-she came at me. I didn't even know who she was until-"

"It's all right." Glynda cuts her off. "I'm not here to report you to any authorities or some nonsense like that. I just  _need_ to know. I cannot stress how important this is."

That didn't much help that choking tightness in Blake's chest, but she tries again anyway. "She was waiting for me. I woke up and she was there. She went into this...I don't even know how to describe it...she just starts telling me things, talking about magic and mirrors and a Witch named Salem."

The bottom of Glynda's mug taps the top of the counter, half slipping out of her grip. She pales, brow knitting as she shifts in her chair, looking down at her hands. "You're  _sure_ she said Salem?"

"Yes."

Glynda nods, suffering another sip. "What else?"

"She had a mark on her."

"Oh? What did it look like?"

"I couldn't tell, I stood at a distance. Something like a butterfly."

"Or a moth?"

"C-could've been, yes." a little nod. "She made it sound like Salem had some control over her with it, and that she told Raven to kill Ozpin's children." and her aura bristles as Glynda's brow tightens, her expression almost a scowl. "Professor Ozpin doesn't have any children, does he?"

"Not in the sense you're thinking, no. He has his students, which I would venture to guess is what Raven meant." Glynda pulls her glasses off, setting them down on the counter with a noticeable  _clack_ before rubbing her eyes. It's a posture that screams  _I'm too old for this_ .

"What about the mirror?"

Glynda offers a silent inquiry, both brows up.

"Raven said Salem was beyond the mirror, that  _she_ was responsible for what happened at Beacon." Blake swallows. "And she said  _you_ could explain it to me."  _If I made it out alive, that is._

Glynda exhales, trying to stifle a little groan as she sucks down the last of her coffee before settling in a forward lean to prop on her elbows. A bitter smile stretches the corner of her mouth. "And I'm sure Raven told you how long a story that would be."

"Yes, actually."

Glynda covers her eyes with one hand, her body jumping with a breathy laugh. "Then you won't be surprised if I'm not of the mind to tell it right now. But I will, I promise. So what happened next?"

Blake takes a breath, then buys herself a few extra seconds by taking a long drink of her tea, never mind that it's still too hot. It's difficult to get her thoughts to align properly, images of what could have been days ago wanting to blur together instead file into the right place. The entire exchange had been confusing enough on its own, never mind what came after that she can only half recall. It had happened so damn fast.

To put it simply "She tried to kill me."

"Because of Salem's mark?"

"No just that. Because...she said she couldn't be trusted with the magic anymore, that I had passed my test and could handle it. Do you know what she meant?"

Glynda thinks a moment, looking Blake in the eyes, seeing something that had never been there before. Flecks of red amongst the hammered gold, crimson outlining the slitted iris. "I think I do. Which brings me back to the story of the Maidens."

"...How, exactly?"

The older woman shrugs, standing up and beginning to make a fresh cup of coffee. "Ozpin discovered how Maidens pass on their powers; either they're given to a woman at random when the Maiden passes away, or to the last woman on their mind at their time of death."

Blake curls one hand around the other, feeling them starting to shake a little. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. Not one damn bit.

"Raven...I remember she was very...mindful of her decisions. She never made a move lightly, everything had to be  _just so_ with her." From combat to conversation, Raven Branwen thought it all through to the  _nth_ degree. The only exception perhaps being her by-blow child. "I can't imagine that she wouldn't be the same way in regards to her powers."

"Glynda, I-"

"That's what you felt when you stepped out of that room, Miss Belladonna." Glynda cuts firmly, turning sharp on her heels to face her again. Somehow the faunus found her more intimidating now than she ever had when she was a teacher. "Leaving the heart of the house allowed the magic to flow freely, let you feel it for the first time." And if it had been anything like the awakening of a Witch, which she had often heard as much, it must have been quite something indeed.

For a moment all Blake can do is stare, knuckles white as her fingers curl against each other. She's searching her memory for clues, anything that might let her accept what Glynda was saying a little easier. Raven had been unlike any foe Blake had ever stood against, more skilled and terrifying than even Adam. She remembers having to constantly look for her, Raven able to disappear and reappear as quick as a thought in riot of blood and shadows, remembers how impossibly great her reach with her katana had been. And her precision with Dust...god, how had Raven not flayed her alive? How in the hell had she come out of that with only a wound on her leg and nothing else?

_It isn't because you were the better hunter. Not hardly. You survived because she was ready to die._

Blake's brow tightens in the middle. That just didn't make any sense. At least, not initially. Given enough time Blake could suss out numerous reasons for such actions, some of them even brush passed the back of her mind after a moment of thought. Compelled by the mark of a Witch to hunt your own flesh and blood, to murder children, your only choice being who to seek out first. It has a certain...familiarity to it, a ring of helplessness that Blake knows well enough. She takes a quick breath, trying to bate the encroaching sense of being overwhelmed.

"...So what now?" Blake finally asks, praying Glynda has some sort of answer.

"Now?" she laughs as she sits back down again, a strange sound that almost doesn't fit. And her smile is suspicious as hell. "Now there's work to do. A  _great deal_ of work, starting with getting you up to speed." Glynda props her chin on the heel of her palm, blinking as if trying to focus still without her glasses. "Where should we begin?"

Blake blinks. For some reason her mind goes to -what she thinks- is the most inconsequential thing. "What's so special about the mirrors?"

Glynda straightens with a quick and deep breath. "They were quite a popular tool for Witches at one time, easy to make and easy to hide in plain sight -which was the most important part. Mostly they were used as a focus, something to help young Witches manage their powers until they matured."

"Do you have one?"

"Not a mirror, no. Too fragile." but she leaves Blake to assume that her own focus could be anything, just as she preferred it. "But it serves a similar purpose. It keeps my powers better balanced."

"So why do you have so many here?"

"Safekeeping, for the most part. Shortly after I began living here, Witches from all over would bring them to me. With the nature of the house, it's the best way to keep them from being broken and misused."

"Would the Witches die if they were broken?"

"No, not that I've heard of. Maybe if they're of poor health or great age." she lilts her head with an inch of her shoulder. "Otherwise...there are only rumors as to what would happen. Seeing as the ritual used to create them placed a part of the Witch -whatever it was that made her unique- into the mirror, I can't begin to imagine what effects it would have."

Blake feels a little shudder squirm under her skin, implications bouncing between her ears as her imagination takes hold of the thought and runs with it. "Could they be used for anything else?"

"Naturally. Many of the old wives tales surrounding mirrors come from their prevalence among Witches; ways of discerning the future or to travel from place to place, speaking to spirits, summoning horrors from an unseen pocket of existence," she sips her coffee, no longer cringing through the action, her casual delivery made all the more unsettling, "take your pick."

"So which of those wives tales are actually true?"

Glynda just chuckles.

 

_(II)_

Qrow tears his attention away from the conversation as he feels his scroll vibrate in his pocket. He can't help it, it's too rare for him to get messages to ignore it. He quickly taps the prompts with his thumb, his red eyes bulging at a text - _Summer shines in grace_ \- before he quickly shoves it back in his pocket.

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Qrow clears his throat. "Thanks for meeting with us, Doc, I appreciate it."

"Sure." Dakota Holiday props himself up on his desk, arms crossed, eyes slanting downward to the hunter in the chair in front of him. "So what did you want?"

"Word has it a couple of faunus were asking about some stuff that you weren't too keen to divulge."

Dakota frowns. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From a brick shit-house with horns about yea tall," Qrow levels his hand as far above his head as he can, exaggerating but not by much. "So what's your problem?"

"No problem. They asked about the insignia, I told them where to find it."

"Yeah, but then they came back with more questions and you clammed up." Qrow scowls when the man flinches. "So what's up your butt? And it's the last time I'm going to ask,"

"Are you threatening me, Branwen?"

"Not at all." Qrow shakes his head, digging into his shirt pocket for his flask. "Just saying that if you can't be bothered to answer _me_ , I'll just pick myself up and leave. But then that brick shit-house I was talking about is going to come in here and ask you the same things I am, but I doubt they mean to use words this go-round."

Dakota flinches again, his face steadily softening as his chin touches his chest. He is a big man, he knows it, but he isn't as big as that horned faunus. He takes a deep breath, his hands moving behind him as he leans further back. "Look, Qrow, I've got a family to look out for. I've got to think about Daisy,"

"I know, Doc, I know. I'm not asking you to put them at risk, but let's be realistic. If it makes you feel any better, just last week I almost lost my niece because of this mess. And Ozpin...well, you heard about that."

"Wait, you think those are connected?"

"Damn right I do."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because whoever trashed Beacon used that symbol while taking out the communications tower and turned Altas' army against us, and she put that mark on the assassin that went after the Schnee family. _She's_ the one that made Ozpin disappear and murdered Pyrrha Nikos."

Dakota lifts his chin in a snap of motion, his brow severe over his eyes.

"Now Doc, I know you care about your daughter's safety, I get it, but I think you're forgetting that she's a grown woman -an Atlesian specialist no less," he waits for him to nod. "Anyone that goes after that girl is going to need a miracle. She can take care of herself.

"But my girls can't, not yet. They need all the help they can get and I aim to see that they get it. C'mon, Doc... _please_." to beg doesn't suit him, he hates the feel of the words on his tongue, but this isn't about him. "They deserve a chance."

Dakota's broad chest expands and contracts and he rubs his eyes. "You sure no one is listening?"

"Positive." He knows Billy is just outside the door, surely keeping away any prying eyes and ears. "So what do you know?"

"I used to live in Caissa...maybe sixteen years ago. Now a lot of this is just a suspicion of mine, but I'm pretty sure folks have been killed for a lot less. But...I remember it was only few months before the regional tournament. It rained for days -and I mean _days_ \- up in the highlands near Haven. It was one of the worst rainy seasons the kingdom had seen since...before the war even. I was lucky enough, I had family to the north that let me and Daisy come stay with them until the storm passed.

"But the rain was bad enough to flood damn near everything, took out a Dust mine and its companion refinery -and you _know_ those things are full of waste. But Caissa sits at the bottom of this...bowl -if you want to call it that- and everything that flood washed away came rolling into the town when it all settled. The water went bad first, then people started getting sick. Within two months the place was empty."

Contemplation creases Qrow's face as he nods slowly. "So what's so classified about that?"

"This is where I get suspicious." Dakota lilts his head to one side, his shoulders inching. "I think the powers that be covered it all up. Because I remember hearing about Caissa _once_ on the news, just once, and the same goes for the reporter. I think they were afraid that if too much got out no one come for the tournament. You know how much revenue the kingdom would lose if that happened?"

Qrow's brows jump, eyes wide. "Enough to turn a blind eye to a bunch of dying swamp dwellers?"

"Oh yeah, more than enough." Dakota nods. "I don't mean to sound all conspiracy theorist about this, but,"

"You don't, quite the opposite really. That sounds exactly like something people with too much power would do to keep it." _Perfect ammunition for an anarchist._ He has a bad taste in his mouth over the whole idea, hating how true it sounds. He shakes his head. "So what about the black queen?"

Dakota squirms, leaning against the desk again, his weight pushing it back far enough for the legs to hiccup over the tiles. "Lots of rumors around that, to be honest. Folks in the swamp are pretty simple, superstitious really. The talk of Witches still scare some of them to this day."

"Rightly so." Qrow chuckles to himself.

"True enough." he nods. "But everyone was pretty sure the old lady living in the black queen house was a Witch, her name was Amalthea. No one bothered her or caused any trouble thinking she'd hex them or something."

"We're not looking for an old lady, Doc."

"I was getting to that." he assures him with a quick nod. "The Witch had an apprentice. At least that's what I thought at the time."

"Oh?"

He nods. "An orphan girl she found wandering the swamp."

"Do you remember what she looked like?"

"Oh yeah. Dark hair and amber eyes, never seen anything like her and I'll never forget it. She seemed like a happy enough kid, a little odd, but something about her always made me...uneasy. Like," he pauses, looking up at the ceiling as if the words he needed were hanging up there somewhere. But they weren't. "I can't even describe it."

"That's all right." Qrow raises his hand, dismissive. "Do you know if she survived?"

"Can't say I do." he shakes his head, lips pursed. "But I can tell by that look on your face that you think she did."

"It'd make my life a little easier...and I _mean_ a little." Qrow chuckles to himself. "...Is there _anything_ else you think I should know?"

"You want another rumor?"

"Always."

"A lot of this I got from one of my old neighbors who made it out, and come to think of it I haven't heard from him since, but he said they blamed Amalthea for the bad water. Hell, they blamed her for everything, especially when folks started dying."

"I think I know where this is going. They kill her?"

"After they exiled her to try and get the hex off the town. When that didn't work, you bet your backside that's exactly what happened."

"And no one knows what happened to the girl?"

"Not that I've heard. If she's still alive, she'd be almost thirty, I think. Late twenties at least...if that means anything."

"Hm. And that's it? There's nothing else you can think of that might be important?"

"It's all I've got. I swear. But I've got a question."

"Well, it's only fair,"

"She the one who killed Nikos?"

Qrow feels an uncommon clench in his chest. "According to my niece, yeah."

Dakota scowls, taking a slow breath. "I loved that girl as much as I love Daisy. She was one of the best students I'd ever had. You tell your niece I hope she gets the bitch."

"Sure I will." not that he would say _that_ to Ruby verbatim, but he would get the sentiment across. "Thanks, Doc."

"We go far enough back, Qrow, I guess I owed you this." he laughs a little. "You still remember the Blue Door job?"

"How could I forget." his eyes roll, a genuine and sly grin stretching his mouth. "Though, I'll admit, I remember the innkeeper's daughter a lot better than the job itself."

"Hah! You never change!"

Qrow lilts his head, silently agreeing, or more so conceding. He stands up, brushing the creases from his clothes. "I appreciate you sticking your neck out for this."

"Like I've said, I'm your huckleberry. Just make sure I don't regret it, alright?"

"I'll probably be back Atlas way soon enough, I'll let Daisy know you're thinking about her."

"You know this conversation never happened, right?"

"Of course I do." Then Qrow leaves the office.

Billy is waiting in the corridor when Qrow emerges, back against the wall and arms crossed, imposing without meaning to appear that way. They watch him start down the hallways, pushing his hand hard over his scalp, paying them no real attention. They lean into an easy walk, with legs as long as theirs it takes next to no effort to catch up.

"Did you convince him to talk?"

"Yeah." Qrow is scowling, his shoulders leaning with a bit of tight hunch. "You see it's a lot easier for humans to _want to talk_ when you don't threaten to split their face in half."

They snort. "So what did he say?"

His jaw tightens. "Let's get the kids together first."

"...What's wrong?"

He sniffs. "Nothing. Just family stuff."

 

It's the deepest sleep Jaune's had in ten months. It's the kind of sleep you forget upon waking but hangs on you like a lead haze, making your body heavy. All he can feel is the fathoms of darkness his conscious mind has fallen into, exposing his subconscious like a nerve.

Even in his earliest memories Jaune knows he dreams in color. Bright and vibrant washes of every hue under the sun scatter across his sleeping mind's eye but they rarely focus into any definite shape, like a rushed painting by an artist in a trance. But when the images coalesce, their clarity is lifelike. Most prevalent are his dreams of home, of his family and their farm, of the lake on their land. His mind skims through tokens of his childhood; breaking his first horse, playing in the hay bales with his sisters, his mother teaching him how to dance. Next he's reading his youngest sister a bedtime story, able to see the pictures on the page as clear as day. Then he's looking at his fake transcripts for Beacon, recalling the knot in his chest. And then everything becomes scarlet and gold, the colors wrapping about themselves in tides of shimmering silk.

In the middle of it all is the fleeting flicker of emeralds and an echo. _I'm sorry._

His unconscious mind draws everything to the center, brings it all into focus; a woman's form, long red hair, bronze and leather, and she's looking at _him_. Something crackles through him, an abrasive and sharp sensation that would have woken him up if he weren't so deep down.

 _I'm sorry._ Now the echo is a commingling of her voice and his own.

Her voice. Pyrrha. _Oh god, Pyrrha._

Pain suddenly swamps him as the image starts to break apart, crystalline spiderwebs cracking across his mind's eye. It implodes before him with the crash of fractured glass, collapsing inward and giving way to something else. A lone, pale white figure clad in black and out of focus among a bleary backdrop of half shadows.

 _Look away, boy._ It's a cautioning hiss.

He can't wake up, though a part of him is scrambling to try. The figure turns their head towards him and he can feel the burning cold of their crimson and black gaze.

 _Look away_.

He can't. As desperately as he wants to he simply _can't_. The figure turns on him, blurring for a split second before it comes back into focus _much closer_ , close enough for him to make out ghost white hair and gleaming fangs and the shock of blackened veins around a woman's eyes.

_LOOK AWAY!_

Then he wakes, his head snapping up from the pillow as the feral shriek still echoes in his mind. Tentatively, cautious, he props himself slowly onto his hands, pushing his body up and shifts to sit upright.

"Jaune? You okay?"

He lifts his head, eyes blinking the sleep away. Ruby is sitting in front of him on the edge of Nora's bed, head tilted and concern in her eyes. For a moment he just looks at her, his gaze moving away and making note of the others in the room, some he doesn't remember having been there when he fell asleep. Hell, he can't even remember falling asleep to begin with. He shakes his head hard, shaggy blond hair tossing, trying to push down the demanding pounding of his heart behind his ribs.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just," he swallows. "I'm okay." he nods after a moment, mostly to assure himself but failing. "So what did I miss?"

 

 

Author's Note: Who doesn't love exposition? I know I do, and I hope you do too because more is on the way. To be honest, I only marginally care about the believability of Cinder's origin as I have it, seeing as from where I'm sitting it's only somewhat relevant. It's a means to an end, so if it appears two dimensional, so be it. Next chapter is likely to have some down time so our girls can get a little acquainted with the new faunus on the block. Thanks for all the kudos so far, and questions and comments are always welcome.

 


	8. Chapter Seven

It felt like they had been talking forever, but it's only been an hour or more.

Well, not so much talking as listening between Qrow, Tag and Billy, and Jaune as they sit around a large round table in Sanctum's commissary. It takes some doing, some uneven moments of miscommunication, but it all comes out in the end. Qrow relays what Dakota revealed about Caissa, Billy and Tag divulge how they came to Mistral several months ago, their story interlacing with Jaune's as they go into detail as to how their village had been destroyed by what they had assumed were White Fang agents and some previously unseen breed of humanoid Grimm. The same that had razed Caissa to the marsh. Jaune had done his best to reproduce the event in words, just as hard as he tried not to meet anyone's eyes though he felt them bearing down on him. Just as hard as he tried not to sell himself as the absolute fuck-up he was feeling like over the encounter.

Qrow will excuse himself once everything is out in the open, simply saying he had to make a call. Who he thought he could reach out here is anyone's guess, but it must have been someone terribly important if he wasn't willing to try with all of them in earshot. For a few moments after he leaves they all just look at each other, feeling strangely...idle. Save for Billy, who is doing their damnedest to show their desperate hunger who's boss.

"My god, he eats like Yang." Weiss tries not to let her mild disgust show on her face.

"They." Yang tips her chin, parroting what she had been told earlier, never mind that Weiss is one hundred percent right otherwise.

"Hm?" then the correction sinks in. "...How?"

"They're both." Tag explains easily, nudging her shoulder against her Guardian's arm, "Or Neither. Billy is...Billy."

"I...I'm sorry, I don't understand." Weiss reddens a little. "I don't mean to sound ignorant."

"It's all right. You can just use their name...or call them stubborn." When Tag laughs Billy just snorts, neither agreeing nor denying.

"Hey, wouldn't you know it, that's my nickname too!" Yang chuckles, then she stretches across the table, hand held out with palm forward. "High five."

Billy swallows, staring. Their silver eyes move to Tag, to Jaune -who isn't paying much attention at all, absorbed in his thoughts perhaps- and then back to Yang's hand. "What?"

"Don't leave me hanging," Yang waves her hand, fingers splayed apart.

"...But you're sitting." Then Billy's head snaps to the side, brows lifting as Ruby takes hold of their meaty wrist with both hands.

"You do it like this," and Ruby pulls maneuvering the faunus' massive appendage to line up with her sister's until their palms touched. "That's a high five."

Billy contemplates the incredible heat coming off of the human's hand for a moment before pulling back. "Oh. What's it for?"

"It's the same as saying _good job_ or _you're awesome_ ,"

"Or  _nice rack_ ." Yang catches everyone's chastising glares. "What? I get that all the time."

Billy's head cocks to one side. "Rack of what?"

"A girl's best friends, of course." and Yang gestures with a smug smile towards her ample bust.

"I see," the bison shows genuine interest now, understanding, and turns their head to Tag. "Nice rack." and without hesitation the two faunus share their first high five. Laughing Billy goes on to say "I guess some human traditions aren't so strange after all."

"What's so strange about us?" Weiss asks, a little amused grin lingering on her mouth.

"Tag and I didn't see our first humans until we were grown, and before that there hadn't been any in our part of the jungle for nearly a hundred years. _Everything_ about you is unusual, right down to the color of your skin and hair. Until this morning, I have _never_ _seen_ anyone quite like you."

Weiss cannot find words to quantify her surprise.

"Where we come from there is no iron, here it is everywhere. Your people make homes and barriers and tools out of it -and you can make it  _fly_ . We make our homes from wood and stone, just like our weapons. We would walk bare earthen trails everywhere we go, here you cover it up. Even  _food_ was unrecognizable when we first arrived." but none of this comes off as malicious, more so with an air of unsure fascination. "In fact, our first sighting of Grimm was almost...comforting." a little, chesty laugh. "One of the few things we have in common."

"Well, given time, I'm sure we could find a lot more similarities between us. Some that are far more pleasant than Grimm." Weiss nods, swallowing an awkward feeling working through her chest. "Speaking of which -I hope you won't think me rude- I was wondering how it is you don't use firearms."

"Oh we use fire just fine." Tag answers.

"No, she means guns." Ruby explains. "It's not very often you see a hunter without one. I mean, yeah, Weiss doesn't use them, but she has glyphs."

Tag and Billy look at each other, their joint amusement and interest quailing. "We don't...have guns in the jungle. At least we  _didn't_ . We saw them for the first time about a year ago, when the Lion came. Tag and I are aware that they are vital tools for most...but you'll have to allow us to go without." Billy tucks their chin, pushing a large palm over the top of their head, mindful of the horns.

"I'm sorry, I meant no offense." Weiss retreats.

"It's all right, we know." Tag assures her.

Yang shifts in her chair. "So this new Grimm has a name?"

"It's how we know it." The otter nods. "It comes from an old story about where the Grimm come from and where one of the oldest of them had been sealed, it's called the Lion's Tomb. No one in the village was allowed to go there and only the elders knew how to reach it."

"And you think Professor Ozpin and my uncle let it out somehow?"

"It's the only explanation we can come up with right now." Tag shakes her head. "I don't know what happened there, and Qrow has yet to tell me. I can only assume they disturbed it somehow."

"But would it have waited fifteen years before...?"

Tag laughs, not quite bitterly, but certainly not with any form of pleasure. "If only being a Maiden made me privy to the thoughts of Grimm."

 

Jaune stopped listening after Qrow left, his head having since been filled with dull static as his gaze wanders but mostly dwells on the top of the table just in front of him. As deep as he had slept last night he still feels drained, off center. That...dream had taken every hour of rest and turned it against him. Every time he closes his eyes he sees a maddening mess of black and red and bronze. Now it's taking everything he has to focus and keep it out of his head, to make the static buzz louder and louder until it drowns out everything.

Without warning, without a word he gets up from the table and leaves the commissary. All of them watch him go, their faces a mixed bag of confusion and concern. Strangely, almost all of them move to stand up, but Ruby is the quickest. "Let me," she says, gesturing with one hand for them to stay in the same way she would a dog.

Ruby jogs to try and catch up, avoiding the bodies of Sanctum students and only able to track him by his bright blond hair. After turning a couple of corners, she deciphers he's headed back to the infirmary, the assumption allowing her to slow down a little. She pushes between two students just in time to see him disappear through the double doors. Ruby gives the ward keeper a sheepish little wave as she passes his desk.

"Jaune,"

He stops and half turns, not refusing the hug she gives him. They hadn't been able to properly greet each other earlier, having met in the commissary and immediately gone into the lengthy discussions they had just excused themselves from.

"What's wrong, Ruby?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." She looks up at him, the worn neutrality in his eyes pulling on her heartstrings. "Are you okay?"

At first he only shakes his head, lines tightening around his eyes. He takes a half step back, out of her reach, and then rubs his face hard with both hands. The skin there is deep red with friction as he pushes his hooked fingers over his scalp. "...What are we doing, Ruby?"

"What?"

"What are we doing?" his hands drop limp to his sides. "...I just...I need you to tell me because I can't wrap my head around it anymore. I need to hear the words."  _I need to hear it because I feel like I'm standing beside myself, pulled apart, and if something doesn't ground me I'm going to stay that way._

"Jaune, I," she sputters. "I mean..."

"Because nothing we're doing is going to...change anything."

"That's not true." she shakes her head. "We almost lost Yang and Weiss, and-"

"And you saved them." he cuts her off in a strangely soft way. " _You_ did that while I was here putting Nora and Ren in danger. I almost got them killed. And if Billy and Tag hadn't been there, we  _would_ be dead."

"You don't know that."

He exhales in a curt puff of air. "Sure I do."  _Because that's what always happens._ "Ren would have drowned, and that Grimm would have made real short work of Nora and me."

Ruby can feel her heart starting to pound a little, the buzz of panic. Part of her doesn't know what to do. "Jaune...I'm sorry I left." it just falls out.

"Don't be. You were protecting your team, it's your job. And this isn't about that."

Ruby swallows, her hands wringing together in front of her. "Then what is this about?"

He takes a breath, exhaling roughly as he bends to sit on the foot of an unoccupied bed. He leans on his elbows, propped atop his thighs with his eyes angled to the floor.

Ruby waits, her hands wringing steadily tighter, her palms sweating with a simmering anxiety. She waits and she waits, itching under his silence, and she can't stand it. "Jaune... _please_ don't tell me you want to give up."

"That's not what I'm saying." he responds. "I'm just...what am I doing here? I...I have no right trying to be a hunter, do I?" and he turns his head, looking at her in a way that makes it impossible for Ruby to think the question is rhetorical.

Her lips purse briefly, "I think you do."

Jaune feels his guts clench, borderline painful. "Would you still think that if I told you my transcripts were fake?" he watches her face, looking for the facial ticks he knows are coming. Her eyes widen, her brows lift towards her dusky hairline, her shoulders drop. "One hundred percent bogus."

"Jaune, what-"

"Pyrrha and Cardin were the only ones who knew." he continues. "Though I'm pretty sure Ozpin and Glynda weren't dumb enough to buy them either. Why they didn't kick me to the curb I'll probably never know. And at this rate I'm not sure letting me stay did me any favors."

Ruby's feet feel heavy as she tries to move, stepping towards him once she's able. She tries to gather herself together as she comes to stand in front of him, bending at the knees to reach his hands and take them in her own. She waits, hoping he'll look up, chancing a little smile when he lifts his head.

"If you meant for that to change my mind, it didn't. If anything it makes me believe even more that you belong here. You went through all that trouble  _just_ to get into Beacon. And you never quit, even though I know things were hard for you."

Jaune closes his eyes, taking a breath and squeezing her hands a little. "But it was easier then. I never realized just how... _unable_ I actually am. Maybe I was too proud,"  _You had Pyrrha, that's why. She saw your potential and hoped you would too. And for a while you did. You believed in yourself. But only because she..._

"I'm just not good enough, Ruby. That's the fact of the matter."

"But you can get better."

He shakes his head, tucking his chin and breaking away from her gaze. "It's been ten months, and I'm still not strong enough to protect them."

"Jaune," she shrugs a little, "this is going to sound funny, so bear with me...it's not your job to protect them all the time. That's just too much for one person to do on their own. Team leaders are supposed to help them learn, to help them find a way to protect each other. You're no more responsible for them then they are for  _you_ . As hunters we know what we're getting ourselves into -at least I'd like to think so- so we also know how important it is that we share the burdens that come along with it.

"Ren and Nora know what they're doing, they know the risks, and if they didn't they wouldn't be here. If they  _didn't have any faith in you_ , they wouldn't be here. Right?"

He's quiet.

"But they're here, they're with you. I don't think they need you to stand in front of them -to shield them- they just need you beside them."

_...And by my shoulder, protect thee._

His guts twist again as something bitter settles on his tongue. His body steadily tenses, his muscles coiling inward and his grip tightening around Ruby's smaller hands. Jaune remembers her words, remembers her touch, his aura remembers the feel of hers as they had mingled for that so brief moment, and it burns him. It burns his eyes with the threat of tears and pushes heated blood into his face.

He chokes. "I don't know how." He struggles to take a full breath only to have half of one shudder out of his body. "I don't know how to do it without her."

 

_(II)_

Whoever this mirror had belonged to was incredibly powerful and Cinder could sense the aged traces of them on the object like one feels an unseen bruise. The toes of her shoes click on the worn wooden floorboards as she gingerly steps over the blackened, smoking and unrecognizable remains of a faunus and her family, quiet excitement cutting across her mouth in a toothy smirk as she plucks the mirror from the wall over the dormant hearth. She can feel its power buzzing beneath her fingertips. She looks away from it for a moment, acknowledging Neo in her peripheral, the blood on the mute woman's waistcoat not going unnoticed.

Neo signs to her, brows set quizzically.

Cinder sighs. "Afraid not. But it _is_ nice," she studies it momentarily, taking in the fine gilding of flower blossoms and ivy in the frame, wondering if these common folk actually knew what they had. Likely not. Still smiling she turns it to Neo, thinking she would appreciate the finery, not expecting at all for her Guardian to look more startled than intrigued. She turns the glass back to her, brow furrowed curiously, and then the expression flattens when she finds Salem looking rather severely back at her.

"How nice of you to join us."

"What are you doing?"

Cinder tries and fails to hide her amusement at Salem's cutting tone. "Something wrong?"

"Raven is dead."

"Oh?" one dusky brow lifts, her smirk snuffed, "Well _that's_ inconvenient."

Salem's eyes thin, hard lines forming around her mouth. "A paper cut is an inconvenience. A missing limb, _that_ is an inconvenience. Losing an irreplaceable asset like Raven _is a disaster_! I no longer have influence over the Summer Maiden _and_ I have no way of knowing who possesses her magic!"

"And that's my fault because...?"

"If you had done what I asked, I wouldn't have had to send her to do it _for you_!" her fangs flicker in the glass as she speaks.

Cinder straightens, chin tucking. "With all due respect, as powerful as I am I simply cannot be in two places at once. So either I collect your focus or I start collecting bodies." And for a moment the two match scowls through the glass.

Salem appears to take a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she exhales. "My focus won't be of any use to me with those children in my way. And neither will _yours_."

Cinder flinches, a scaling and brief tension that snaps through her from her sternum as she eyes Salem, wary. "What are you going on about? I'm no Witch,"

"I know." Salem _almost_ smirks. "But the ritual can be performed on anyone, even without their knowledge. Amalthea was no fool."

Her face tightens in the middle, her amber eyes alight. "You're lying."

"You're so certain of that," Salem actually laughs. "Though lying is the one thing I _haven't_ done. But whether or not you believe me, it doesn't make it any less true."

"Where is it?" the question is quick and cutting.

"Show me a corpse and I'll tell you more." Salem dares.

"You're _hardly_ in a position to bargain." Cinder bites, her face working into a snarl. A primitive, driving aggression is forming a knot in her stomach. She can't stand it when someone stands between her and something that _belongs to her_. "You'll tell me, or I'll find your mirror with the sole intent of _shattering it_."

The crimson pits of the Witch's eyes burn like dying stars. " _Do not presume to threaten me_ , _child_ ,"

"Or you'll what? You can't hurt me without-"

Even Neo flinches at the powerful disruption of broken glass. The face of the mirror cracks and explodes upward into Cinder's face, like an invisible fist punching through from behind. One hand holds fast to the frame while the other tries to shield her from flying shards. As quick as her reflexes are, several small cuts blush across her cheeks and chin. When she pulls her hand away, she looks down at the glistening silver at her feet, shocked and disgusted.

Salem's face lingers in the fractured glass, broken up into dozens of smaller replicas. When she speaks, her voice resonates through each piece.

"I will send Manticore through, and I _expect. Results._ Am I understood?"

Cinder's chest works quickly, though she quiets her panting breaths behind a tight jaw. "Completely."

And then Salem's image disappears as the magic in the mirror dissipates. For a moment Cinder just stares, her features steadily tightening and her aura flaring. The metal frame in her hands starts to glow, softening. It pulls and thins under gravity, her trembling fist closes around it. It comes undone into heavy droplets of slag that pop to the floor and burn right through it. Her other hand smears red ribbons across her cheek.

 

Beyond the mirror Salem is now alone, cut off from the other side as Cinder's image fades from the volcanic glass wall. Losing the link between planes vibrates coldly through her and compounds the empty desolation at her core. She turns on her heel and starts down the roughly hewn stone corridor, her strides seeming to push the shadows aside to kowtow and make way. She moves deeper into the passages of her isolated hideaway, down, down, down, nearly to the bottomless darkness beneath it all.

Her steady strides bring her to Ozpin's cell where she briefly lingers. She finds his blurred silhouette through the volcanic glass, discerns his neutral posture but far from neutral gaze and tight tuck of his chin as he glowers back at her. The thought of strangling him to death _now_ passes through her mind, a mouth watering idea that she eventually bites back. Not yet. He hasn't suffered enough yet.

"Problems?" It's the first thing he has said in some time. To anyone.

"Not for much longer." Salem chuckles softly. "I have a question."

"Oh." his interest comes off as mocking. "By all means,"

"Who's your spy?"

"Excuse me?"

Her gaze sharpens. "I felt someone pierce the veil, and knowing your fool's luck he's likely one of _yours_ , now _who is he_?"

His brow knits, his eyes glistening with wary puzzlement. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"I _know_ when you're lying, Jarreth _._ " she cautions.

"Yes, just as well as you know when I'm telling the truth." he nods, expression still holding.

" _No one_ is keen enough to ascertain _that_." And as true as her words are, _his_ ring with equal verity. Even though she is all but dead inside she can still sense his honesty. It's disgusting, and the sentiment shows on her face as she pushes herself to move again.

Further down the passage she can feel the cold bristling of Manticore's presence against her skin. She pauses mid stride when the sensation pitches, making her turn her head towards an opening in the stone. There it is, coiled into a circular pit worn in the wall of the tunnel, green eyes glowing, barbed tail curled and still. A low, almost lazy growl radiates out of the shadows swaddling its form. Salem gestures with one taloned finger, encouraging the Grimm from its hole, comfortable satisfaction turning her mouth as Manticore comes to kneel at her feet.

Black magic and the remains of her semblance begin pooling together in the pit of her stomach, a lukewarm snapping of static that charges from the crown of her head to her toes. She pulls the power into her hands, the energy manifesting in a sable and crimson glow that surrounds her palms. It thins and reaches out as threads, twining and winding until it touches Manticore. The black and crimson breaks up into bronze and bright red, the subtle glow cutting the gloom in the passage as the colors inch towards her fingertips. Energy ripples through her as a connection is established and she holds on to it, her mind beginning to sift through it. At first all Salem comprehends is light and sound, a roaring mess of stimuli she has to discipline into place with a surge of effort. In her mind's eye the colors separate and settle as expected, giving her free reign to search it all at her leisure.

Normally there was no need to be so meticulous about this. She is more than able to yoke something or someone into compliance with little more than enough time to focus, but she wanted something in particular.

She is marginally surprised to see that so much of Pyrrha remains, the little part of Salem still able to conceive hope having convinced her that the Grimm had settled in too deeply to allow such a thing. Still, she isn't concerned, she can still use this. Memories, thoughts, feelings, she starts to file through them all one at a time like pages in a book. Salem starts to pull on the bronze threads, hands working carefully and precise, seeing their contents as one would see a dream. All the while the influence of Manticore drifts against her, nudging, almost distracting. It's attracted by her dark emptiness, pawing for it at the back of her mind. Salem shoos it away with a cautionary pulse of thought, the Grimm kowtowing to the power of her semblance.

The Witch only offers passing glances at the girl's early life, finding no use for it. Maybe she would find a way to do away with it altogether just to see if she could. But it could wait. She would have all the time in the world for that later. She keeps pulling gently on the threads, her hands moving just so to wind the strand over and over around her knuckles. Her brow flinches when images familiar to her start to appear, flashes of Pyrrha's first encounters with Ozpin and Glynda coupled with flickers of her anxious hopes of being accepted into Beacon. Her hands wind the thread more slowly, contemplatively, until they suddenly stop, the bronze glow burning brighter.

One sable brow tightens as she tests the tension, finding resistance. It gives under a flare of her semblance and she continues to pull the thread.

_Ah, look who it is..._

In the memory of a sea of nondescript forms of students Salem makes out a startling shock of red and white and gold, but she focuses on the crimson cape as she holds the strand still. Frustration and anger simmers across the back of her mind as the Witch keenly remembers what the little girl is able to do.

_Problematic little urchin..._

_This_ is something she can work with. Out of sheer curiosity she continues pulling the strand, just to see where it leads. She feels resistance again and pulls with another pulse of her semblance, but it doesn't give this time. Her expression morphs with a violent twist at the deep, chesty growl that emerges from the Grimm at her feet. If Salem still had a sense of humor, she would find Pyrrha's quiet rebellion amusing. The talon of her smallest finger hooks one of the red threads and pulls it close, allowing Manticore a little more leeway to push the girl's influence back where it belongs -out of sight, out of mind.

Salem feels herself shudder at Manticore's closer presence to her mind, a cold intrusion to her thoughts with the creature's memory. For a moment she acknowledges the flashes of her younger self, of Ozpin, Glynda, Qrow, Raven and her Guardian, Summer -all of them through Manticore's eyes. Quickly she twists the crimson thread with the bronze one, allowing the Grimm to ward off any further defiance. She starts pulling again.

_What's this?_

The shimmering fiber she holds within the curl of her index finger splits as a certain sensation, a strange collection of emotions carries up through it. Salem feels repulsed once she deciphers what the dominant one is. _Love_. It's heavy and unsettling and hangs like a lead weight from her sternum. She swallows the discomfort to see what the fuss is about, and is again surprised. She sees him -just as plainly as she had seen him in her mind's eye when she felt the distinct itch of being watched- and almost can't believe it. But when the skepticism passes, as her mind accepts his youthful, gangly frame and messy blond hair, she can't help but cut a grin that is _so vile_.

 _This is almost too perfect._ Salem nearly laughs out loud. _Children can be so wonderfully foolish._

She begins twisting strands together with purpose, her hands working like a practiced puppeteer's. As her work crowds the bronze strands with red ones she can feel Manticore pushing closer to her, and this time she allows it only out of necessity. More of the Grimm's memories are bleeding into her thoughts, her hands fumbling for but a brief second at the renewed encroachment. She does her best to focus through the images of a failed hunt, of being struck by Manticore's barbed tail and paralyzed before being dragged by the creature -along with it- into a portal Raven had ripped open.

Finally she releases the threads, light giving way to shadows once more. With a stabilizing breath Salem remains upright through a surge of vertigo, almost surprised by the taxation her semblance imposed on her. She watches Manticore stand, pleasure steadily marking her features. She hooks its chin with one finger.

"You understand?" she pauses, looking for hints of resistance in toxic green eyes, "you find them, kill them, and you destroy _anyone_ who gets in your way. And I _mean. Anyone_."

A slow nod, coupled with a rumbling exhale and a slow blink.

"And when you find the boy," Salem chuckles, "I want you to tear out his eyes and bring them to me." _And that's only if I don't shatter his mind first._ "Now go."

No hesitation. Once Salem moves aside the Grimm knight goes sprinting through the cavern and disappears. Salem will take her time, still smirking as she strolls back the way she came.

She can't help but pause outside of Ozpin's cell again, intrigued to find him standing just against the volcanic glass and shooting her a quietly caustic glare that she is almost eager to meet. God, she loves seeing him angry.

"You're going to fail, Salem."

"Because you say so?"

"Because you're afraid."

"Oh?" She chuckles behind her hand, demure. "To be honest, Jarreth, I'm quite sure I've forgotten what fear feels like. Something I can actually _thank_ you for."

He frowns, lips thinning. "Yet you are so desperate to cover your loose ends."

"Desperate? But I'm only just getting started." her smile is more like a wound. "Once my focus is found I will leave this hellhole and flood every kingdom with Grimm until they collapse. And then, after I've had my fun... _maybe_...I'll kill you." and she imagines it being deliciously slow, like a python with a mouse. "Or, even better, I will do to _all_ of your children what I've done to Pyrrha and have _them_ do it. Won't that be fun?"

Ozpin holds fast, unflinching. "And therein lies your fatal mistake,"

Her features flinch.

"You're still assuming they're just children."

 

 

Author's Note: What a drag that last section was. Yikes! About two days of agony, but I realize I needed to have a little expo on Salem and kinda touch base on how old four-eyes was doing. No telling when the next chapter will be out, what with life and all that. I'm being vague because -spoiler alert- I still have no idea what I'm doing.

 


	9. Chapter Eight

After four days of sweating and throwing up, Ren's fever breaks. He wakes feeling filthy and sore -feeling like someone is trying to turn him inside-out via his navel, his face pale and drawn with long stubble gathering around his mouth. Pushing a shaky hand through his hair makes him cringe, it feels heavy and rough after days without being washed. He hasn't felt this bad since he caught pneumonia as a child.

Initially he finds it in him to be anxious, unsure of where he is or how he got here, but the sensation is brief, muffled by the burning discomfort in his stomach and the familiar -and strangely soothing- grinding sounds of Nora snoring in the bed beside his. His sleep had been plagued with fever dreams filled with fire and Nora screaming about Taijitu, it's relieving to see she's all right.

It's mid morning and the others are awake, his surprise noticeable when he realizes just how many others there are. He only just remembers the faunus, having thought the bison a part of his delirious sleep, but the sight of Ruby, Yang, and Qrow catch him off guard. When Jaune tries to explain things, catch him up on everything he's missed, Ren just puts up his hand and politely insists he be given a chance to clean up and adjust first. He tries to get up on his own, but stumbles when his body can't keep up with his brain and his bones feel more like hunks of lead. Jaune pulls his arm across his shoulders and helps him to his feet. Thankfully it isn't too far to the nearest shower.

Jaune helps him out of his clothes, at the very least keeping a hand on him to help Ren keep his balance which seems to be particularly hard for him. He'll lend Ren his toiletries, leaving him alone just long enough to fetch his now clean clothes while he washes. The only thing he doesn't offer up to Ren is his toothbrush, which he wouldn't have taken anyway. Just putting the brush near his mouth threatens to make Ren gag, his stomach muscles spasming almost reflexively and making him cringe. In the end he takes a hit of mouthwash, hoping it will make due to control the odor of his breath and bad taste in his mouth until he feels better. And though he shakes, still exhausted, he manages to shave without cutting himself.

Nora is awake and waiting when they get back, jumping up from her bed and quickly shuffling towards them with her arms out. Jaune takes a step back to give her room, knowing Ren is in no danger of becoming off balance with her vice-like grip around him. Nora rambles almost softly into his shoulder -"I was so scared, you were so sick, and you wouldn't wake up! You just kept puking and puking and _puking_ "- sounding on the verge of tears. Ren gently hugs her back, assuring her that he's all right.

"You kids need to head for Atlas, then."

"What about you, Uncle Qrow?" Ruby tugs on his sleeve, feeling a mote of insecurity.

"I have to meet up with Goodwitch back in Vale. I've been trying to reach her for days without any luck and I _need_ to speak with her."

Ruby exhales. "Season stuff?"

Qrow almost laughs as he looks at her, amused at the code word as he nods. "Yeah. But I'll be back once I'm finished, I promise."

"Okay. I think we can handle it."

"I know you can. Besides, it's not like I'm leaving you alone. Together, Tag and Billy are just as good as me."

"No one's as good as you, Uncle Qrow." she pushes under his arm, hugging him.

His dusky brow quirks. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah." she answers, a little tremor working through her. Her conversation with Jaune the other day has been hanging on her heart and she didn't know what to do. She hadn't uttered a word of it to anyone, feeling as though the exchange was meant to be kept in confidence. Also she hoped, given time, she would find a solution, just the right thing to say to him to help. But it hadn't happened.

"You know I know when you're lying right?"

"Yeah." but she tries to smile anyway, her head leaning against his arm.

He wants to press, part of him feeling unusually paternal -his knee jerk thought is to reach for his flask- but he doesn't. Kids have to learn to shoulder their burdens eventually. "Just stick close to your sister, okay? The next few weeks are going to be hard."

"I'll do my best."

"I know you will." His hand grips her shoulder just before he steps away. "Stay strong, kid."

Ruby just nods, watching Qrow start away from her, lingering just long enough to offer a few words to Yang before disappearing. The sisters then look at each other, expressions similar -anxiety with a dash of diminished hope. But then a little smile. At the very least they had each other, and that will always be enough.

"Are we leaving soon?"

Ruby looks up at Billy, staring briefly at their unpainted face. "Yeah, back to Atlas."

The bison nods. "Where is this place?"

"It's pretty far, but we'll take the airship so it won't be so bad."

Billy's face quirks. "...Fly?" They watch the small human nod and swallow. "Hm."

"Something wrong?"

"No." the answer comes almost too quickly. "And your friends are fit to...fly?"

"That's what the doctor said." Ruby's eyes thin, curious. "You've never flown before, have you?"

"Tag and I were brought to -Mistral is it?- Mistral by boat. So no."

"Oh." she tries not to laugh. "It's not as bad as you think."

"I don't know what to think." they cross their arms, clearing their throat. "So what is in Atlas?"

"It's where Weiss is from, we're going to get Yang a new arm." The lingering laugh perched in her chest flies free at the shock that comes over Billy's face.

"Well...if humans found a way to make iron fly, I suppose this shouldn't come as a great surprise." a chesty chuckle after a moment to collect themselves. "And where is your elder off to?"

"Qrow?" she waits for a nod. "He's going to see Professor Goodwitch," she notes the lifting of one brow, "she's a hunter too."

"Ah. To gather more information I hope?"

"I think so, yeah." _I hope so_. "So where's Tag?"

"She is mentoring the small Maiden." both Billy and Ruby snap their heads to look and watch Yang sputter with laughter. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh no," Yang gasps, easing closer to them, "that was _perfect_. High five."

And though they aren't entirely sure why, they offer up the hand gesture. "Should I fetch them or,"  
"Maybe it's best if we get going as soon as we can." there's an itch in the back of her mind, a prickling of her instincts telling her that they may have lingered too long already. She turns her head, "Hey, Jaune,"

He twists around in his seat on the edge of one the infirmary beds, "Yeah?"

"Ren good to go?"

"He needs to get something in him, but otherwise he's okay. Are we leaving?"

"As soon as we're able." The two share a nod, and then Ruby looks back up at the faunus. "Do you need anything before we go?"

"No, but," they swallow, "could you show me this...airship?"

"Sure." she smiles, showing teeth. She takes Billy's wrist and starts leading them along. "It's actually pretty cool."

"Oh, the cold doesn't much bother me."

Yang starts to laugh again. "I'll catch up with you, sis, alright? I'm going to help vomit boy one and two get their shit together."

"No big rush." she replies with a little wave.

 

Ruby is full of questions as the two walk through Sanctum with the intent to reach the courtyard - _your axes look cool, are they heavy? What are they made out of? Can I hold one?_ Billy is patient, even accommodating as they respond with not too thorough answers. When it isn't enough, Ruby simply asks for a more in depth explanation. For a moment the faunus wonders if their own daughter is this curious, a little, heated pinch working through their heart at the thought.

Once outside Billy senses Tag's presence with more clarity, the warmth blossoming through the mark on their wrist intense enough to garner a passive scratch. The little movement garners Ruby's curiosity, compelling her to ask what it is.

"Maidens can give their Guardians a portion of their power by way of a mark. It helps us stay connected even though we may be far apart. Am I right to guess that the small Maiden hasn't offered hers to you yet?"

Ruby sputters, not entirely sure why her words aren't forming right. Maybe it's because she wants to laugh at what Billy calls Weiss. "I-I haven't really...said anything about it to her and she hasn't brought it up, so no, I guess not." her hands twine together in front of her, fussing. "I don't really even know how to ask."

"Were you not raised to be a Guardian? Your eyes are like mine, so,"

"It's not the same here as it is where you come from. I'm just a kid. I mean, yeah, silver eyes are special, but I was just...brought up to be me, you know?"

"In a way, yes." They nod after a moment, brow knit curiously.

"Could you," Ruby pauses, waiting, finding her words again when Billy looks down at her, "could you show me how?"

For a moment they aren't sure what she means, but then it clicks, and they nod slowly. "Have your powers not surfaced yet?"

Ruby swallows, anxiety suddenly tugging her chest inward. "Yeah, in a way. I think. I don't really remember."

The conversations stalls for a time as they cross the courtyard, passing the fountain where Tag and Weiss sit on the edge. At a glace the faunus appears to hold a sphere of water suspended above her hand, explaining something neither Ruby or Billy can hear. She offers up the liquid orb to Weiss, only to have it collapse when she tries to take it. Tag shows no displeasure and offers no discipline, but only repeats the process that she might try again.

They continue on to the waiting airship, Billy pausing just inside the machine's shadow to look it over. Ruby waits at the foot of the lowered ramp, amused to watch them.

"Do you remember how your powers manifested?" Billy asked, hesitantly starting up the ramp, head turning to look in all directions as they reach the top and board the ship.

 _How could I forget._ The comment flickers bitterly through her thoughts. "I...kinda."

"How?" Billy pushes gently, not unaware of her intentional omission.

Ruby starts moving again before she answers, glancing over her shoulder to make sure they were following. "I was angry...a-and sad." _I was heartbroken. I watched two people -my friends- die. Two friends I could've saved if I had only been_ seconds _sooner._ "Then everything went white."

"Hm." Billy has to physically squeeze into the narrow corridor leading the from the cargo bay into the innards of the ship, hunching as well to keep from smacking the ceiling. "You're young, and as talented as I'm sure you are, you still lack the discipline of age."

She tries to ignore the most long-winded version of the "you're just a kid" lecture she's ever heard. "What about you?"

"Nearly a year ago, when the Lion came, though I believe they tend to show with my semblance as well."

"Can I ask what your semblance is?"

A single nod, one wary of the height of the ceiling. _Too small_. "I can switch places with living things. You?"

"I can move really fast and rose petals fly everywhere."

Sable brows lift. "I think I'd like to see that. But back to the matter,"

"Yeah." a deflated laugh.

"I will admit I don't really understand the nature of the magic as you might think I do. I'm still learning myself, and like you I was angry when my powers surfaced." memories of fire and blood and countless bodies flash through their mind in a jarring blur. "But the manifestation was much more focused by the sounds of it."

"How did you do it?"

"I don't know." Billy just shakes their head, navigating through another doorway, this time trying to avoid a startled crew member. "Could be how I was raised; my emotions were never allowed to get away from me, not when I had a village and a Maiden to protect."

Ruby stops, looking up at them, something sympathetic tugging at her features. "That sounds...kind of sad."

"Perhaps," the faunus sighs, "but it has allowed Tag and I to survive."

"I've always thought our powers and emotions had a sort of...bond, you know?"

"And I agree, and it isn't that I don't _feel_ , it's just...I cannot allow it to affect my actions. I'm sure you understand that, else you would not be able to hunt."

"Well, yeah, I guess." her hands wring together as eye contact breaks. "So...can you tell me what it was like?"

"Once we are out of such a _squashed space_ ," Billy's shoulders churn, tight, and a grumble rumbles through them.

"To be honest, it doesn't get much bigger than this. Let's go back to the cargo bay."

"Gladly."

 

 

Weiss focuses on the orb of water, her hands in front of her with the palms up with the intent to take it. Tag eases it towards her and she feels the cool, glass like sensation of its weight, something deeper than her aura starting to brush against it. But it collapses again once Tag pulls away, Weiss' face scrunching in frustrated disappointment.

"It's all right. Let's try again, you almost had it that time."

Weiss quietly marvels at Tag's seemingly infinite patience, it's so strange to expect a scolding and not receive one. If only her previous tutors had _half_ of the faunus' forbearance, maybe perfection wouldn't be such a glowering four-letter word. She takes a stabilizing breath, trying to push the vexation down as Tag gathers another handful of water and lets it form.

"Winter is the season of adaptation, of doing what you must to survive, and as a Maiden your surroundings are more subject to your whim than you are to it." Tag explains softly. "Whatever you think it needs to be; if you need it to become a stone, you can make it a stone, if you need it to turn it to ice, then turn it to ice. Just don't let it fall apart."

Weiss nods quickly, renewing her focus. She reaches for that something deeper than her aura, the near bottomless feeling of cool energy swirling within her, willing it upward and trying to concentrate it in her hands. She feels a bristling at the tips of her fingers, like the pins and needles of falling asleep. She eases her hands around the sphere of water, letting the energy ripple against it. Another breath, another gentle tug at the magic.

Tag slowly pulls her hands back, a smile steadily widening across her face as the water maintains its shape in spite of an initial wild shudder. "There. Now change it."

Weiss tries to maintain her composure through the swelling pride in her chest. "Into what?"

" _Anything_."

Her brow knits gently in the middle, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth. The water ripples, little blossoms of disturbance that intensify into waves that crest and jut outward. Then it freezes solid, reforming the once smooth sphere that the two of them can see right through. At the center is a near perfect collection of crystals resembling her family crest, the image she had burned into her mind to help her focus. She lets go of the magic as her hands close around it, the cold weight of it allowing her to accept that it was real. That _she_ had made it.

"Well done!" Tag claps her hands. "And it's beautiful."

"Thank you." she tries not to sound _too_ proud. She regards the ice for a moment longer before letting it roll out of her hands and splash back into the fountain where it had come.

"Has the magic begin to show in your semblance at all?"

"I think so. My glyphs come a little easier," Weiss crosses her legs, hands in her lap, her posture semi-formal. "But,"

"But? There's something else?"

"Summoning is still difficult for me." a little sigh. "But I'm working on it. I'll get it. Everyone else in my family has so..."

Tag nods with a stretch, legs out, arms above her head, and her heavy tail straightening out behind her. When she pulls back the tip of her tail splashes lightly into the water. "I'm certain you will. What you just did took me weeks to figure out."

Weiss almost blushed, flattered.

"Then again, I didn't have a proper teacher."

"So how did you learn you were a Maiden?"

Tag leans on her palms, her tail coiling upward before splashing the water again. "My mother died."

Weiss straightens reflexively. "I'm sorry."

Tag tilts her head, dismissive. "I was already a grown woman, so...but it was a terrible shock to say the least."

"I don't doubt." Weiss recalls her own dismay from months ago, the same roiling anxiety that grips her from time to time when she looks in the mirror and registers the opalescent shimmer in her own eyes. "My mother is gone too, but I didn't get a chance to know her."

Tag looks at her, sympathetic. "Do you have any other family?"

"Just my sister now." a little sigh, a sound meant to cover up the hard jerking at her heartstrings. She misses Winter so much. Since their father died all she has wanted was time with her, just the two of them.

"Is she anything like you?"

"Oh no," Weiss shakes her head, "Winter is _so_ much more capable than I am. Winter is amazing,"

"Are you saying you're not?"

"I...well, no. Just..." she doesn't finish, tucking her chin and staring into her lap. She can feel the faunus looking her over, a little flair of anxiety working through her at the gentle scrutiny. Weiss chances to meet her eyes, surprised when she didn't find what she expected. Not contempt for her display of supposed weakness, but curiosity. "What?"

"Nothing, just thinking." Tag sighs and looks away, looking to focus on the airship as her Guardian and Ruby start down the ramp again. "I know that look."

"What look?"

"All you've ever wanted was a family."

A little jump, Weiss' legs uncrossing and her palms covering the rim of the fountain where she sits. "How,"

"It's like looking at my own face." a brief chuckle. "In a way. I grew up in a huge family, though I am an only child I had countless cousins. But I've always had a desire for a romp of my own."

Weiss had never considered children for herself. More often than not she was too concerned with growing up to consider what motherhood would be like. And if she had to be entirely honest, her father was much too poor an example to give her any confidence in her potential as a parent. "Did you not pursue it because you're a Maiden?"

"In a way, yes. The village elders weren't keen to the idea, said it would distract me from my purpose. It's...tradition." her brows pull together as she takes a deep breath. Then the quiet scowl breaks into a facetious smile. "Besides, the one I want won't sire children with me."

"Why not?"

"Again... _tradition_." Tag feels the matter much more complex than that, too complex to explain to a human.

But Weiss knows the weight of tradition, of expectations. It's a lead yoke around her neck that she struggles to stand up straight against every day. Like Tag, it had barred her from certain things; feeling like she belonged, feeling comfortable in her own skin and, at times, feeling at all. And while she is quite certain that she has yet to fall in love, Weiss can still read the distant pain on the faunus' face somewhere beneath the bright red paint.

"Is it Billy?"

"I suppose it's true," Tag laughs, tucking her chin as her tail swings around to her side, "that otters are not known for concealing their feelings very well."

"Do they know?"

"Yes." a single nod. "And I have that at least." Then she clears her throat, standing up with another stretch. "So will you ask Ruby to be your Guardian?"

Weiss sputters, not expecting the question. "D-do I have to? I mean, it's not that I...it's just, well,"

"No," Tag has to laugh a little, amused. "You don't have to, though I believe a Maiden needs a Guardian. We're strong enough on our own, but our Guardians," she pauses, looking over her shoulder to Billy again, "they help us do the impossible. I'm not trying to force you, I was just wondering. I think she would be a fine one."

"How so?"

Tag smiles thoughtfully. "Because she has a big heart, just like my bison."

To be honest, Ruby would be her first choice, if for no other reason than their dynamic as friends is already steady, familiar. They made for fine partners at Beacon for the time they were there, as rocky as their relationship had begun. But the pragmatic _Schnee_ is throwing up red flags at the concept, demanding she find some unfamiliar specialist to fill the slot so feelings didn't get in the way of purpose -telling her that she was too young to know what is best, that she and Ruby both are just stupid kids that don't know any better. Would it even be fair to ask Ruby to do such a thing?

"Is it permanent?"

"Hm? Well, one would expect it to be."

Weiss fumbles again, realizing the lack of clarity the question had. "I mean the mark."

"Oh, no, it isn't. Billy doesn't wear mine any longer than they must, they don't like the feeling of being tethered."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a connection, a bond between us. It allows me to keep track of them, help them with my magic. I've heard stories of Maidens _controlling_ their Guardians...but I've never tried."

Weiss feels a small tremor work up her back. While the idea of someone Tag's size having thrall over someone like Billy is strangely fascinating, the weight behind the faunus' words stifles the notion. After a moment of mulling it over in her mind, Weiss just shrugs quietly.

Tag looks at her, a little smirk pulling her mouth. "I know it feels like a lot, but I'll help you."

It is amazing to consider how so heavy a promise coming from a near complete stranger could bring her such comfort.

 

It's nearly noon when the lot of them board the airship. Billy is adamant in their refusal to subject themselves to the cramped corridors again, electing to remain in the cargo bay for the duration of the flight -never mind that it will supposedly take more than a day to return to Atlas. Especially once the ship lifts off, setting them off balance with an unexpected pitch of motion and encouraging them to sit on the floor. Tag is content to stay with them, looking a little uneasy herself. She'll sit herself in front of her Guardian and begin trying to distract them with small talk and reapplying the Dust paint to their face.

Ren is promptly set up in the barracks, his lingering fatigue starting to overwhelm him again. Nora will stay with him until he's asleep, joining the rest of the group in the commissary. Her appetite had been fluctuating for the last four days and she wanted to take advantage of her lack of nausea while she could. It would serve as a better opportunity to catch up now that she wasn't bent over a bucket every hour or so.

The airship clears Mistrali airspace by early evening, keeping a westward heading with the intent to trace Vale's northernmost coastline. Smaller ships such as theirs often take flight paths nearer to land, passing in close relation to as many outposts as possible in case of an emergency. Most Atlesian pilots prefer a forced landing on solid ground or in a forest over crashing into the open sea.

Night falls and Jaune finds himself restless. He lays in his bunk, half listening to sounds of the others sleeping soundly around him, his arm across his eyes in hopes the mild pressure might soothe the buzzing discomfort in his head. He's tired, he _wants_ to sleep, but a part of him is too wary. The dreams keep coming back. The dreams he still hasn't said a word about to anyone thinking they would probably call him crazy or just heartbroken over. Even though neither of those things explains away the menacing white face and burning eyes.

Jaune sits up, pulling his hands down over his face with a stifled groan and a shake of his head. Without much thought he stands, pulling on his jeans and shoes, his mind dragging him through part of his morning ritual in the middle of the night. With just as much conscious reasoning he grabs his backpack from beside his bunk and lets it hang on his shoulder, starting to somewhat tiptoe his way out of the barracks. He pauses briefly when Ren stirs as he passes his bed, bending down to ask if he's okay. Ren nods sleepily and rolls over, satisfying Jaune's little worry.

For a time he just wanders around, shuffling without purpose from one end of the ship to the other, occasionally encountering crew members working the night shift. He finds Tag and Billy still in the cargo bay, now asleep, the bison curled protectively around their Maiden while Tag hooks their leg with her tail. He only lingers a moment before turning back. He'll find himself near the front of the craft next, unable to enter to cockpit and therefore has no real reason to stay. Jaune eventually settles in the half dark commissary; it's somewhere to sit without the risk of bothering anyone.

Jaune holds his backpack to his chest for a long while, both arms around it and his chin resting on top of it. One hand is settled on its front, its largest pocket, and on the circle of hard edges beneath the worn canvas. His mind drifts to and away from it, his heart wrenching when he acknowledges the object's presence. The sharp little pain makes his eyes screw shut, his brow pulling together tightly until it passes. After perhaps an hour of this -there's no telling how long it had actually been, his overtaxed brain just can't fathom seconds and minutes right now- and against his better judgment, he pulls back the zipper, removing the coronet from its sacred space and setting the pack on the floor beside the chair he occupies.

The ring of bronze feels so heavy in his hands. Now, months later, perhaps a part of him expected otherwise -more so _hoped_. Weren't these things supposed to get easier, time heals all wounds, so on-so forth? _What a crock_ , he thinks bitterly. It isn't easier, it isn't getting better. A love-hate feeling still rails him every time he remembers the coronet in his bag and he still can't stand the thought of Ren or Nora seeing him with it -seeing him weakened by it. Memories of its owner are still somber church bells in his heart that rattle him whenever his mind can bear to form an image of her. And just as when he first learned she had died, he still toes a fine line between stability and emotional breakdown that he doesn't know how to back away from. When he forces himself to look at the circle of bronze his eyes start to burn almost immediately. A new reflex.

But, by the same token, he isn't about to let himself forget about her. The thought of erasing the few traces of her that remain to spare himself a little pain is sickening, always has been. He'd sooner fall on his own sword.

He loses track of time, paying no mind to the hours he throws away alone, the only evidence of its passage being the steadily growing heaviness of his eyelids and his deepening slouch in the chair. His chin starts dipping towards his chest without his realizing it until it settles there, his eyes shutting completely and his chest starting to work in a slow rhythm. He doesn't move when a pair of crew members arrive to start prepping for breakfast. Thankfully his mind doesn't go too deep down, his consciousness pulled out of sleep by a hand on his shoulder. Jaune's head gives a sharp jerk back, blinking as he looks up, his senses a little too fuzzy to show the surprise he feels at seeing Weiss standing there.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" her expression means for the question to be scolding, but her tone is anything but.

He clears his throat, straightening. "Couldn't sleep."

"Clearly you could." her head tilts, her arms crossing. Then she shrugs. "Would you care for some coffee, then? I was going to get some anyway, so," then she pauses. "Oh my god."

Jaune looks up at her, brow knit in confusion. Then he realizes where her eyes have settled, no longer on him but seemingly on his hands. He quickly rights himself, snatching up his backpack and stuffing the coronet back into it and jerking the zipper closed. He won't look at her now, not wanting to see the shock on her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm being nosy."

"You're not, it's fine." he makes himself say it, though his guts start to twist under her scrutiny. Jaune props his elbows on the table in front of him, resting his chin on his folded hands. "But if you're still offering, I think I'd like some coffee."

Weiss only nods, stepping away, her strides a little stilted. She would come back with a pair of full mugs, making a second trip back to the counter for a few small packets of sugar and creamer. She'll sit in the chair farthest from him, not saying anything else or even looking at him until after she's taken her first sip. Whatever words she means to offer up catch in her chest, the bunching of the muscles in her jaw keeping it from working as she watches him stare into his cup for what seems like a short eternity. She watches him take a sip, looking like he isn't even thinking about it, his reaction to its strong bitterness only serving to reinforce the thought. She tries not to laugh at the way his face morphs through a gambit of disgust and shock and something else as he scrambles to dump cream and sugar into the beverage.

"Awake now?" a hand at her mouth conceals the making of a smile.

He sputters through a nod, managing to laugh a little at himself. "Th-thank you. My god, what is this, jet fuel?"

"I think Captain Erikson actually _does_ call it that," she lets herself laugh as well, feeling a bit of her ingrained propriety slip. "I like it, personally."

"I guess someone has to." he tries the coffee again, finding it much more palatable the second time around.

Silence falls over them, Jaune still unable to look up from the table or his cup for more than a second. Weiss' fingers start drumming the side of her mug, her eyes flickering from her hands to the young man across from her. Her lips thin.

"Ruby said you had it, I guess I just didn't believe it. That whole night is still a little surreal to me."

"Me too." he responds, unfazed by the sudden change in subject. "Did...does Ruby ever talk about it?"

"No, not really." she shakes her head gently. "Though I can tell she thinks about it a lot...it wakes her up at night sometimes."

Jaune nods, a ripple of empathy pulling on his ribs. "I know."

"...You too?"

It takes him a moment to decipher the question. "Not as much, but yeah." He thinks to bring up the most recent dreams, but bites his tongue.

Weiss leans back in her chair a little, almost retreating. Her lips pull between her teeth, her snowy brows pulling together. "We tried, Jaune. We really did."

He feels his body tensing, discomforted. "I know." _We_ all _tried, but it didn't matter._ "Could we change the subject?" Jaune had spent most of the night agonizing over this and he simply didn't have the stomach for it anymore.

Her expression sours a little through a lengthy pause. "What is it with you team leaders and not talking?" But when he finally looks up and she meets his gaze, she finds something in them that she has never seen before. His brow casts heavy shadows over his eyes and his mouth pulls into a line. He looks almost...angry, and something actually bristles against her aura in quiet warning, making her jump slightly.

Jaune had never been known to have a temper, but a part of him wishes he had one as Weiss' words dig deeper and deeper under his skin. His mind roils with expletives and a need to react, to put her in her place on the matter, but he swallows it down. He takes a breath in and out through his nose. "I lost one of my best friends, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm not too keen to dwell on it." and his tone is flat, reined in.

"I'm sorry." she offers immediately, meek.

He feels his muscles loosen with a drawn out exhale, his gaze falling to the table again. "...I didn't mean it like that, I'm not angry."

She accepts the apology, but she knows it isn't entirely true. Weiss had always known him to be gentle and patient, how could she _not_ see such a radical deviation from that? Not that she's about to press that to him.

"It's just," he continues, Jaune's face steadily scrunching, and he pushes his hands through his hair, "it's been hard. Harder than usual. Ren and Nora getting sick...it shook me up. The last couple days, I don't know...I've thought about giving up."

Weiss feels herself jump again. Did he actually just say that?

Jaune looks up at her. "Where are we?"

"P-pardon?"

"Where are we right now?"

"Um," her thoughts scatter, "maybe...we might still be over Vale. Why?"

"I'm thinking...could you convince the pilot to drop me off?"

She winces, thorough confusion twisting her features. "You must be joking. Ren and Nora still need you."

He takes three big mouthfuls of his coffee, rendering the mug more than half empty. "No, they don't."

"Yes we do." comes a tight-throat interjection, seemingly out of nowhere.

Jaune and Weiss' reactions mirror each other, both of them snapping their heads in the direction of the sound. But whereas Weiss' expression is set in something unreadable, Jaune loses a little color in his face and his mouth hangs when his mind accepts Nora's presence. He hadn't even heard her come in. How had he missed it?

"N-Nora, I,"

"We _do_ need you." she repeats. Her hands are fists at her sides, trembling slightly. Her entire body appears tight. "You're our _family_ , Jaune...but you want to leave us?"

Jaune tries to stand up, his words fumbling. "I don't _want_ to, Nora, it's just...maybe it's what's best."

"But it _isn't_!" the force of her words and the punctuated step she takes towards him pushes Jaune back into his chair. "Leaving is _never_ what's best! Abandoning your family is never what's best! It's selfish,"

"Nora,"

"What you're doing is selfish, just like what Pyrrha did was _selfish_!"

All of a sudden he can't breathe, he just gapes, her anger and pain tunneling against his aura.

"That's right, I said it!" something she's been waiting months to say even though just thinking it turns her inside out. "What she did wasn't _brave_ -there's nothing _brave_ about throwing your life away and leaving behind the people that love you- it's _stupid_! But not you - _not you_ -" the first tears roll hot down her freckled cheeks as she jabs an accusatory finger at him, " _you_ don't get to do that to us! Ren and I didn't _walk_ all the way to Mistral, or get eaten up by leeches in that _disgusting_ swamp and puke our brains out just so _you_ _could call it quits_!"

Jaune has to fight to stand again, his legs unstable as he tries to straighten them. His knees almost knock together before he's fully upright. "Come on, Nora, just sit down. We can talk this out."

"What's there to talk about? I heard what you said," the volume of her voice has diminished and she sniffles, her palm wiping her cheeks. She backs away from him when he steps towards her, seemingly repulsed. She starts shaking her head, refusing to look at him as he starts stumbling through explanations and apologies, even going so far as to shove him when he gets closer than she can stand.

And all the while Weiss just watches silently as the situation devolves, her hands covering her mouth to quiet a gasp when Nora half snaps and calls Jaune an _asshole_. It's like watching a train-wreck in slow motion -knowing everything is about to boil over in a wild hot mess but unable to look away due to some morbid curiosity. She half expects Nora to give him a hard five across the eyes, tensing in anticipation of it until everything stops when a red, flashing light fills the room.

The red light floods the commissary, the entire ship, bringing the whole crew and all the passengers to attention as it's coupled with a shrill siren. An alarm that only sounds for three reason; critical engine failure, a fire on board, and incoming Grimm. The craft had not shuddered but remained stable, and there was no sign or smell of smoke. That left only one thing...

 

 

Author's Note: So yeah, you want to know a secret? 90% of these last few chapters didn't even make it into the planning phase of this fic, so I literally had no idea half of this was going to happen. A majority of the beginning was initially intended to be told in passing, offering up only the most essential and bare bones information needed for the sake of set-up. Now, I usually expect this sort of thing, but I'm still a little floored by the sheer volume of extra stuff I'm churning out. Maybe that's why I feel like it kind of sucks. Ah well, it is what it is. Any questions are welcome, comments as well. See you next chapter if it pleases you to join me there.

 


	10. Chapter Nine

Yang is perched on the top bunk, situated near a vent and sneaking a cigarette when the alarm blares through the airship alongside an intercom barking about Grimm. Without really thinking -too concerned with Ruby seeing her with it- she grinds out the embers on her thigh with a silent but hard cringe. On the upside she feels the pain flare against her aura in a way she hasn't felt in months and kind of likes it. Ruby jackknifes upright in the bunk beneath her, the minimal blanket slumping to the floor just before her feet swing over the side.

"Don't think I didn't smell that," Ruby snips loudly as she pulls on her boots.

Yang slips down to the floor, face scrunched as she offers up a dismissive chuff. Bending down she pulls her backpack to her feet, one foot pressing down on the corner to give her the stability she needs to pull the zipper back.

"What are you doing?" Ruby pauses just long enough to ask, Crescent Rose halfway to its harness on her back.

"You're not expecting me to sit this out, are you?" She's elbow deep in her bag now, searching. With her tongue between her teeth she straightens, holding the solitary cuff of Ember Celica.

"Yang, you-"

"Don't tell me I can't, Ruby." she shakes her head, wild blonde hair tossing as she tucks the cuff beneath her abbreviated limb to hold it steady. "Don't say I can't because I might believe you. Now either I'm going to kill a Grimm today," she shoves her hand into place, flexing the fingers until she finds that perfect fit, "or I'm going to have another cigarette." and she looks at her little sister with as much sincerity as she could muster. Yang has been toeing the perilous line of doubt and confidence for what feels like months, needing only a word from Ruby to either pull her back or shove her over.

Thankfully, Ruby smiles and nods. "Come on." She knows damn good and well that Yang is going to do what she wants, no point standing in her way.

They help Ren out of bed, snatching up Magnhild and Crocea Mors as the three of them hurry through the barracks. Ruby is sandwiched between the two of them when Yang suddenly stops at the door, making way for several crew members that go sprinting by, and she squirms with a grumble muffled by her sister's back when she can't get loose right away.

"Oh good, you're all awake." Weiss sounds pleasantly surprised. Nora and Jaune file in behind her when she stops, Jaune squirming through the final adjustments of his armor around his chest, his backpack hanging from his arm.

"How bad is it?" Yang asks as she passes forward Magnhild and Crocea Mors respectively, seeming to ignore Ruby's insistent shove as she squeezes from between her and Ren.

"Nevermore from what we can tell. Captain Erikson has already hailed the nearest outpost and is altering our course to reach it, but that could be another twenty minutes. They're sending more ships, but,"

"Twenty minutes, right," Yang nods, "long enough for this little POS to be grounded if the Grimm are moving fast enough."

"So to speak. This ship has minimal defense capabilities, it would only take a large enough force to bring it down."

Yang chuckles, " _Is it_ large enough?"

"If the captain isn't willing to stand her ground and fight, then yes, likely it is  _and_ with interest _._ " And Weiss is not at all surprised to see Yang and Ruby make the same face, one of quiet excitement. "But we're to stay in the cargo hold until it's safe again."

"What? Why?"

"What little armor the ship has is concentrated there."

" _Fine._ " Yang just rolls her eyes and starts to move, everyone filing in behind her.

Jaune is at the back of the line and is jerked to a stop by an unexpected hand on his arm, his sneakers squealing against the floor. Anxiety flashes through him when he comprehends Ren's searing and inquisitive expression, his eyes cutting to Nora just down the corridor and then back to him. Jaune knows what he's going to ask before he does it, putting up his hands in mock surrender and promising they would all sit down and talk about this  _later_ .

In the cargo bay, Billy doesn't wake to the blaring screech of the alarm, instead their eyes snap open to the harsh jerking of their head in Tag's hands. Full awareness makes their body jump, their big hands curling around Tag's wrists as they stagger through. "What is going on?" The bison faunus barely gets to their feet when the ship lurches hard, its nose tipping upward and its back end dropping, throwing several of them to the cold steel floor of the cargo bay. As troubling as this is, the real concern doesn't begin to manifest until they realize that the ship isn't stabilizing and the engines roar in resistance as it's somehow pulled to a halt. Concern that morphs into something palpable when the craft's once steady levitation transforms into an insistent, downward pull, the entire hull groaning with some invisible force.

Weiss stabilizes herself at an angle, ankles cautiously locked as she balances on her heels and moves for the wall. Bracing with her hands she moves towards the panel of keys that works the cargo bay door. Completely ignoring Billy's panicking pleas not to do it, Weiss smacks the largest button on the panel and holds white-knuckle tight to a recessed loop of solid steel typically meant for securing lading as the door drops out of sight with a great hiss of hydraulics. Air rushes outward with decompression, pulling on everyone for one panic-stricken instant. Billy is almost hysterical now, just shy of begging for the door to be closed as they look out into a vista made up partly of half-dark sky and the darkness of the sea beneath them.

"There's something down there," Weiss has to shout over the roaring of the air and the engines no longer muffled by a layer of steel. "I can't make it out from up here."

Ruby mimics her partner's earlier steps, moving along the wall and taking care to approach the gaping opening. Without a word Weiss grips tight to Ruby's ammo belt with her off hand, better bracing herself with one foot as she takes on her partner's weight and Ruby leans closer to the sucking emptiness. Ruby slips Crescent Rose from its harness and lines it up against her shoulder, looking down the scope and focusing on the surface of the sea. At first she sees nothing out of the ordinary, then catches a passing glimpse of a high rolling and v-shaped wake. At its source she can make out the shocking pallor of bone plates and the dim glowing of brimstone eyes that are so wide set that Ruby has to entertain the possibility that this Grimm either has an enormous head or was incredible all over; the latter of which seeming wholly more likely when she comprehends the form of Manticore perched atop the plates that seem to line its back that disappears beneath the waves. She swallows unconsciously at the gripping gesture of its clawed hands towards the ship, feeling a shiver that even works through her aura.

"What is it?"

"I think it's the Grimm knight Jaune told us about."

"How did it follow us?!" Jaune's voice breaks a little over all the noise.

"It's calling the ship down into the sea!" Billy is trying to push themselves  _into_ the wall. "Shoot it! If that strange weapon of yours is also a  _gun_ then  _shoot it_ !  _Kill it_ before it drowns us all!"

Ruby hasn't looked away, undistracted by the shouting around her, reflexively narrowing her senses on the shot.

Weiss' grips Ruby's belt a little tighter. "You can do it, Ruby."

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as the cross-hairs level on the center of the Grimm's chest. Inhale. Exhale.

Just as her finger begins to squeeze the trigger the ship pitches again, the resounding crash of impacted metal shudders through the hull as a trio of Nevermore feathers rip through the ceiling. Weiss feels the bristle of pinfeather fibers scrape between her shoulder blades, making her go rigid.

"If that thing down there doesn't knock us out of the sky, the Nevermore will!" Yang barks. "We've got to get this ship moving!"

"I can't get a steady shot," Ruby shakes her head.

Forgoing the risk of losing balance while walking, Tag moves on all fours with natural grace, low to the deck to reach the open hatch and peer over the edge.

"T-Tag, what are you doing?" As much as they want to, Billy can't pry themselves away from the wall. " _Tag_ !"

Without a response she crawls back a short ways only to take a bounding leap off the edge. Still Billy can't move, rigid with fear, and only manages a choked scream as their Maiden's form disappears. Ruby continues to watch, no longer spying through the scope as she tries to stay focused on Tag who becomes more and more like a dark speck as the distance between them grows. But the dark speck sparks into a bright green glow, the faunus descending towards the sea like a star out of orbit. There is no sound, only the visual of her impact with Manticore and the collapse of the creature beneath it, and all are swallowed up in a vortex of whitened, churning water.

The ship lurches again, leveling out with all hands aboard jerking as it picks up sudden momentum.

 

Roiling water pushes into the otter's ears, momentarily dulling her senses as she feels herself spinning, weightless. The impact was hard, even with her magic working to cushion the blow Tag still feels her bones protesting against any move she tries. Opening her eyes she finds herself upside down, staring into the spanning, endless dark of the depths below and brimstone flickers of the massive Grimm she had seen from the ship. Tag quickly rights herself, pulling the flint dagger from its sheath beneath her shield and gripping the leather wrapped handle in her teeth to keep her hands free. No sooner did she have her jaw set did she feel claws catch into the meat of her shoulders.

Manticore remembers. It remembers the abhorrent pulse of life that is inherent to Spring that's rolling off the faunus, having last felt its heated friction nearly two decades ago when the previous Maiden unwittingly came into its jungle with the Witches and the hunters. It remembers killing the foolish woman with one heavy swipe of its claws -claws much bigger and deadlier than the clumsy and neutered human hands it's forced to work with now- a blow that snapped her neck like a twig. It had felt the itch of bright life in her then and still has this horrible hunger to rip it out of  _this one_ now. It's what had drawn it out, baited it after having emerged from the mirror like fresh blood to a starving lion. It had followed its trail for days until it came to Mistral's coastline, forcing it to reach out to its fellow Grimm to continue the hunt.

Bright green sparks flicker beneath Manticore's claws as they drag across Tag's body, across her aura. She twists in response but gains little advantage as the Grimm holds tight to her. She catches a glimpse of the barbed tail, the diminished light at this depth just enough to make it flicker. A whip of her own tail fends it off as she pulls against Manticore's arms, forcing her fingers between the Grimm's in an attempt to take its gripping power away. Tag tucks her legs close to her chest once she's able and kicks back with both of them, catching the Grimm in the pelvis while simultaneously kicking off into open water. While her lung capacity far exceeds what is considered average, she can't hold her breath forever and takes off like a shot for the surface. Behind her she feels the pulling, swelling presence of both Manticore and the massive Grimm coming up from beneath her.

 

Two large Nevermore have perched atop the airship and have started pecking away at the hull like common ravens with a snail's shell. The first thing the massive birds do is rip out the two cannons, rendering the machine defenseless, and though the armor and thick glass of the cockpit has been broken and blown out, the craft maintains altitude. Captain Helka Erikson and her two specialist officers protect the pilot as if they're the only thing standing between them and certain death.

In the cargo bay one great obsidian beak juts through the ceiling, writhing with hard jerks of the creature's head to widen the breach until Yang gives it three hard punches to the hinge of its mouth to make it retreat. Ruby snatches Weiss about the waist, pulling her without a word to stand under the new opening and pushing upward through it as a red blur with a burst of rose petals.

"Nora, come on, give me a leg up," Yang gestures with her hand as she moves beneath the rift.

"I'll come with you." she nods, folding her hands together atop one bent leg to give Yang the platform she needs.

"We'll stay and help the crew." Ren knows he's not fit to go toe-to-toe with Grimm this big.

Nora only nods once, her bright turquoise eyes cutting to Jaune for a split second before she disappears through the roof with a unified push of her legs and aura.

Jaune shivers through the pressure of Nora's accusatory glance, shaking his head and turning his attention to the faunus. "We have to go, Billy."

"She jumped," the bison's head moves back and forth. "Why did she jump?"

"Listen, I'm sure Tag's all right, but we have to get the Grimm off the ship before we can go back for her. Come on, we need your help."

It takes a moment, the ship shaking again before Billy will look at him, swallowing noticeably hard before nodding. "All right...all right. Lead the way."

 

A Nevermore falls away and its body collapses along the precise incision left behind by Crescent Rose. The second is consumed by the white flash of triggered Dust, a heavy shell of ice solidifying about its neck and shoulders. Unable to fly away it can't avoid Magnhild's volley of shells that crash one after another until its talons rip free of the hull and it plummets to the sea below. But more of the winged Grimm circle over head, and once the ship is free of them, three more dive for the aircraft at breakneck speed. Ruby calls for a glyph and Weiss obliges, the bright light of her family crest blossoming beneath Ruby's feet as she bends her knees and braces for launch. In the next instant she's airborne, cool wind cutting against her face and roaring in her ears. Her dark silhouette blurs crimson and rose petals scatter, the distance between her and one of the Nevermore closing in the time it takes to blink. Steel shimmers in the early morning light and Ruby passes between the growing emptiness between the Grimm's head and neck.

Two more Nevermore are still diving for the ship. Weiss calls another, larger glyph that shimmers to life on the airship's starboard side and pushes the craft several feet out of position. One Nevermore misses its target, screeching in dismay as it scrambles to avoid crashing into the sea. Weiss unconsciously counts the solid discharge of shells from both Ember Celica and Magnhild into the third Nevermore, watching as gold and pink smoke streak the air as the massive Grimm continues its wild descent. Though the monster takes several solid hits to the skull, it follows through and rips into the ship at full speed. The craft begins to spin, the engines struggle against failure and the nose drops.

 

Tag watches the forced landing of the airship in passing instances, catching sight of it only when she surfaces to breathe as she propels herself beneath the water with all the speed and grace of anything that calls the sea home. Watching it fall makes her heart skip a beat, but the panic is secondary to the mounting dread she feels gnashing at her heels. The massive Grimm is still behind her -trailing by mere yards- and she has still yet to make out what it is. An inky blackness clouds around its head, the darkness billowing from its mouth and around the pearly flickers of fangs, concealing its full appearance and true size. Manticore still clings to its back and Tag can feel the vibration of its powers against her aura as it tries to pull her to it.

When she surfaces again there's a flash of light, a wave of white energy that washes over the sea and buffers against her aura with a cold, hard shudder. Even the overall temperature of the water around the faunus fluxes, dropping sharply and almost too cold to stand. Tag focuses through it, doubling the effort at the distant and low rumble of the massive Grimm gaining on her. Surfacing once more she can see the airship still above the water, resting on what looks like a thick sheet of ice. There is smoke from the wreckage but the craft is mostly intact. In that brief instant she can hear the crack and pop of gunfire, the sounds actually bringing her a strange sense of comfort. They survived. With that worry out of her mind Tag changes her thoughts to keeping the Grimm and Manticore away from them as long as possible, pushing her hands out in front of her to change her rapid course and dive. Down, down, until all that's visible of her is a faint green glow. Before the massive Grimm continues its pursuit of the faunus, its great maw opens up wide with a rolling surge of black ink, a host of brimstone eyes bursting out of it. 

This body is meant to breathe, so Manticore cannot follow Spring. Instead it throws itself into the dark cloud, and allows its monstrous kin to hunt the faunus while it sets its ambition on Winter.

 

His head pounds, feeling swollen. The first thing he registers is the dull roar in his ears and the lingering spinning feeling in his guts. Once he's able he curls his toes in his shoes, unconsciously making certain he still can. Jaune pulls his body inward, muscles protesting. His jeans are ripped and he feels the jagged edges of metal through the breached denim. Pain crackles through his palms as he pushes them flat against a steel panel, lifting himself up. He lifts his heavy head and opens his eyes.

The roaring in his ears dies down, allowing him to comprehend the echoing cracks of gunfire and the distant shrieking of Nevermore. He can almost sense one great, opaque shadow passing over him as he pushes to his feet.

"You okay, Jaune? Gimme your hand,"

"Yeah, I'm okay." He recognizes Yang's voice though he hasn't looked up far enough to see her reaching for him. Ache prickles through his neck as he does, and he sees the bright red ribbon rolling down the side of her face and neck. "You're bleeding!"

"This is nothing." she laughs, taking his wrist and pulling him out onto the ice. "I feel great! The best I've felt in  _months_ ." Her heart is pounding, adrenaline rails through her and gives her goosebumps, and her aura is flaring around her as it transmutes pain into power. It feels like  _living._

He swallows, making himself just take her word for it. "What about the others?"

"Everyone's accounted for except Billy. Did you see them before the crash?"

"They were right behind me," he turns his head one way and then the other, finding no evidence of the faunus anywhere. He means to go back into the twisted remains of the ship, but the nails-on-a-chalkboard sound from overhead diverts his attention. Both of them snap their heads up, looking into the storm of gigantic pinfeathers whistling towards them.

 

Only now when she feels ice beneath her hands does Weiss accept what she did. She hadn't been able to focus before, not with the world spinning and the panic twisting her insides in knots as she sensed the distance between herself and the sea closing at an alarming rate. There was no clarity to use Dust or her glyphs, leaving her instincts to dig deeper than even her aura in the desperation of  _act or die_ . As she clung for dear life to a jagged edge of the sundered hull, rent steel biting into the skin of her palms and drawing blood, a wayward swing of Myrtenaster had sent the magic spiraling towards the water where it touched down and transformed into a great sheet of solid white ice.

However that had only served to bolster her panic, albeit briefly. How on earth was a solid object  _safer_ to crash into than the ocean?

The ship struck ice on its side, one wing snapping off as it bounced once, making a last complete roll through the air before skidding to a stop with a wake of bright yellow sparks. Bodies and Grimm scattered across the ice as well, but thankfully all the humans kept moving.

But anxiety is still working through her. The impact had caused her to lose grip of Myrtenaster, and through her still uneasy vision she can't seem to find it. Grimm still circle overhead and she's unarmed. She tries to stand and can't, unable to shake the feeling of the earth moving beneath her.

"Weiss, are you okay?"

Weiss feels a certain comfort come over her at the sound of Ruby's voice, the accompanying warmth of her presence. With an unsteady nod she lifts her gaze and takes the hand Ruby offers to help her stand.

"That was amazing, I saw  _everything_ !" Ruby bounces on the balls of her feet, gushing and watching Weiss as she retrieves Myrtenaster with a breath of relief. "I can't believe you-"

"Stay focused," Weiss snips, stilling Ruby's excitement while pushing the creases out of her clothes.

"Weiss, I saw this  _huge_ Grimm beneath the water," Ruby's brow pulls with worry. "I've never seen one like that."

"We can worry about it when it shows itself, right now we need to stop the Nevermore."

With a nod Ruby takes Weiss about the waist before becoming a white and crimson blur with a push of her semblance towards the smoking wreckage. Had they lingered just a moment more they might have caught sight of the cutting, jet black dorsal fin as it breaks the surface of the water and surges towards the edge of the ice, Manticore gripping it with one clawed hand at the base. One dorsal fin that quickly becomes a dozen.

 

Like the deer in Mistral, Tag reaches out with her magic to the life she senses in the darkening depths, the soul-deep vibrations bouncing off the massive Grimm -and several smaller ones now, birthed out of the foul black ink- still chasing her like a bitter echo. Her ribs are tight with the restrained reflex to breathe, her heart pounding at the refusal of oxygen, but she can't surface yet, not when her desperate summons are just starting to receive an answer.

Out of the colder northern waters emerges a team of seals, their once dark brown eyes flickering green with Spring's influence. Theirs ranks break apart as Tag swims between them, and then come back together before rippling into the horde of smaller aquatic Grimm with their jaws open. This initial assault doesn't faze the biggest one, but it isn't meant to. Crackling over the low rumble of the largest Grimm are the clicks and whistles of a pod of orcas, ten fully matured members strong. They move on the saurian monster as one incredible wall of force, crashing into its side with jaws working against its plated hide. Its bellow rattles through the water and a fresh cloud of darkness surges from its gaping maw.

Once she's certain it's no longer concerned with her, Tag breaks for the surface. She bobs among the meager waves for a moment, turning at sharp angles to get her bearings straight as she gasps for air. She spots the column of smoke and feels a charge of dread work through her. The distance between her and the others seems so great, but not so far that she can't see more Grimm emerging from the sea, some of them crawling up onto the ice two and three at a clip. And there was the bright bloody red of the Lion's mane as it jumps from some Grimm's back and starts scrambling across the ice. With a determined knit of her brows she takes another deep breath, deep enough to make her lungs pinch, and puts the knife back between her teeth.

Just in time for something to snatch her by the thigh and pull her under.

 

These strange Grimm are the size of a large dogs but chitter like rats and are covered from stem to stern in bleached bone plates streaked in red. They have multiple spindly legs beneath a broad and armored tail which makes up most of their bodies. Tucked under their barreled torsos look to be a pair of balled fists made of solid bone. They feel their way around with long jerking antennae as the soft-ball size bulges of their eyes look to be full of nothing but snowy static. They're beginning to crowd the ice by the dozens, waves of them closing in steadily on the humans.

Initially no one really knows what to do; for most this is the first they've ever seen them, they don't even know what to call the damn things. They are mostly kept at bay by calculated shots from Atlesian rifles and the young hunters' firearms, but one manages to scurry close enough. Nora is quick to offer up a grand swing of her hammer, sending the awful crustacean flying back into the sea. A second takes it place, wriggling between blasts from a specialist's rifle before it's at his feet, its carapace folding as the Grimm rears back and throws the tucked bone mallets outward against him. There is a whistle of cutting air, a  _SNAP_ , and a choking, wet gagging noise as the mallets strike him soundly in the sternum and blow the contents of his chest out the back of his once pristine white uniform. After that it didn't matter what they were or what to call them, all that mattered is that they were dispatched as quickly as possible.

 

There's a unique and incredible fear that comes with facing the unexpected, and this is doubly true for someone as regimented as Weiss. Everything has a pattern, a formula, a modus operandi that allows her to plan several moves ahead and act accordingly. With the appearance of these unfamiliar Grimm, that confident familiarity is already starting to rattle at the hinges, the uncertainty only swelling when she watches one of them smack Ruby hard enough to send her rolling towards the edge of the ice. Weiss is  _sure_ her aura took the brunt of it, but knows by the sluggish way that Ruby gets back to her feet that it still  _hurt_ . 

With a push of aura Weiss takes to the air, glyphs starting to form in a circular barrier around the skittering horde. The seals spin and shift from white to black, their combined energy pooling together and pushing on the Grimm, forcing them into a scrambling heap. Weiss watches as Ruby fully rights herself and lunges into two swift, sweeping assaults through the throng of Grimm. Weiss reaches the top of her jump and summons another glyph, feeling its pressure building above her as Myrtenaster's mechanism spins and clicks into place. The glyph fluxes and slings her back towards the ice, the edge of her saber shimmering bright yellow with sparking arcs of energy. The air collapses and then pushes outward in one great wave when she touches down, lancing one Grimm through the soft spot where the torso meets the tail, and besetting the rest in the riot of light and sound that emerges from triggered Dust. Some of the Grimm coil up, rigid and dead, others swell and pop as their carapaces break apart. The Grimm she has pinned to the ice writhes and screeches madly before expiring.

There isn't time to enjoy the little victory. They immediately shift their attention back to reaching the others.

Weiss takes three long strides before sliding to a stop, feeling something prickle hotly against her aura. Before she can turn towards what she senses as the source, a dull vibration buzzes through her sword hand just before an invisible force jerks the blade against her chest and  _pulls._ Like being hooked up to the tow-cable of a runaway truck she's ripped through the air and across the ice so fast she can barely breathe. Her jaw works but words don't form, and even when they do they break up in her mouth as she goes from horizontal to perfectly vertical -up and then down again to smack the ice hard and flat on her back. The world is black and silent for but a second, then she's torn back to awareness by the sharp and crushing pressure on her chest as it pushes the air out of her lungs. Pressure exerted on her body by Myrtenaster.

For a brief, frantic moment she can't focus, can't see, but then everything centralizes with one great big downward  _push_ and the distinct, shuddering  _crunch_ of the ice beneath her. Her heart sputters in her chest and a cutoff scream claws its way out of Weiss' throat at the horrifying chill of water welling up underneath her and bleeding through her clothes. Her jaw clenches, her entire body tensing like a steel trap as her palms slap against the ice in a desperate attempt to brace herself. The light of a glyph flickers beneath her, never fully forming as her mind simply cannot will it to. The light dissipates completely when Weiss looks up into savage set and toxic green eyes, Manticore looming over her with one hand steadily coiling into a fist. Once all five fingers closed, Weiss would be pushed through the ice and into the water with her own sword dragging her down, down.

At around twenty feet her ears would pop. Sixty feet and the weight of the water would threaten to push the last bit of precious oxygen out of her lungs. And her mind thrashes like a frightened animal at the prospect of what would happen by the time the sunlight disappeared, long before her body would actually reach the bottom.

Another push, another horrifying jolt of breaking ice. Finally she finds the means to scream " _RUBY_ !"

Weiss registers the keening echo of her own voice and feels a powerful ripple of magic burst forth just as the ice gives way and the water swallows her.

For the first few seconds she can't open her eyes, too focused on trying to stabilize the ripping panic in her mind and to resist the knee-jerk reaction to scream again. Weiss can feel herself being pushed deeper and deeper, the pressure in her ears already starting to build up. When they pop she shudders, a small cloud of bubbles escaping and her eyes snapping open to watch them flutter for the surface. It's just as dark down here as she thought it would be, and above her is the sheet of ice steadily getting smaller.

Then suddenly the pressure lifts and Weiss rights herself, wasting no time in sheathing Myrtenaster so she can use both hands to help her ascent. As fixed as she is on reaching the surface and drawing breath, she can't keep her attention from being divided to a host of brimstone eyes. Enormous shadows move beneath the ice above her; some look to be more of those awful crustaceans, others appear to be sharks, and then she  _feels_ the presence of the massive saurian Grimm before she sees its incredible body blot out the whiteness of the ice. Weiss has to tear herself away, redoubling her efforts to surface. Her ribs feel like they're starting to pull apart as her ears pop again, every vein pulses hard enough to hurt, and her brain is screaming for her to  _exhale_ but she bites her tongue against it. 

Almost there, just a few more feet.

Fresh air is a hard, cold slap in the face that she gladly accepts, sucking in great mouthfuls of it after an initial choking sputter. Before she can get her bearings straight she feels something gripping the back of her dress and lifting her up with a firm jerk.

"The water isn't exactly safe enough to swim, Miss Weiss." Tag laughs flatly, pulling the human up to stand beside her.

Weiss grips Tag's arm to keep her balance, her heels having a hard time gaining traction on the soft and slick hide of the whale the two of them are now perched upon. Her first thought is to ask how, but then she decides against it. She knows the answer she'll get.

"Are you all right?"

"Much better, thank you."

A curt nod. "How much longer until your ships arrive?"

"I'm  _hoping_ they'll be here any minute, because I don't know how much longer we can hold off this many Grimm."

"We'll surely fare much better once we return to the fight. You ready?"

"Always."

The orca eases into a swift turn, making its way towards the ice. Anxiety blossoms in Weiss' chest as they draw close enough to solid ground to jump from the whale's back; she can't see Ruby anywhere. For a moment she focuses on the absolute bedlam of what remains of the ship's crew and the others pummeling their way through the horde of Grimm, unable to make out so much as a single rose petal in that chaos. As she stabilizes after sliding a little upon landing, she forces herself to look towards the source of the ill-at-ease that shudders over her.

This time she finds no fear or apprehension at the sight of Manticore, finding the humanoid Grimm wrestling tooth and nail with a massive, dark red shape, its barbed tail snapping against it and bouncing off an aura with a shower of sparks. Weiss' features steadily stretch, gaping as she makes out snapping jaws, heavy paws with claws that could easily match the Grimm's, and bright silver eyes.

A wolf has Manticore in its teeth and is jerking it around like a rag doll.

 

 

Author's Note: Holy crap, this chapter was hard to write, and look at me being a jerk and leaving it like this... I'm terrible. And I never meant for this to take two weeks to finish, but work and life have been crazy so, you know. As a consolation, once the next chapter is finished I'll post it, never-mind my usual one week grace period; those of you who have stomached this hot mess this far deserve that much. As well as a little more WhiteRose in the next couple chapters. I want it to be something of a slow burn, hence the touch and go. Besides, they're still young and still have their collective baggage, so slow and steady seems to be the order of the day. Hope to see you next chapter, questions and critique are always welcome.

 


	11. Chapter Ten

A hunter is made up of a roiling mass of several things; courage, raw strength, insurmountable drive and a certain violent lust. The great ones make the time and effort to hone that hot mess and temper it into something controllable. The great ones learn to unleash it in disciplined and lethal bursts instead of allowing it to run rabid over anything and everything. They learn to condense and focus it, able to balance it all on the head of pin if necessary.

Ruby has all of these traits in spades, but not the maturity to wield them all. However now, under the influence of wayward magic, she has a taste of what it feels like to do just that. It's lightning and howling winds, it's the slamming cadence of her heart battering behind her sternum and pushing white hot blood through her veins. A mind whitewashed by pure instinct and flawless movement. It's every muscle clenching whip-cord tight and an immeasurable surge of aura, all of her strength centralized in her shoulders, neck, and jaw.

But there is no conscious control, Ruby feels detached, in a way only watching as the Manticore twists against the powerful grip of a muzzle full of teeth. Her head is full of growling and snarling that sounds distant, not realizing she's the one making these wild noises. Everything feels second hand, even the dry snap of bone plates giving under driving fangs and digging claws is surreal. The only thing that is here and now, the only thing tangible, is a hunter's primary instinct to slay Grimm.

Weiss watches, stunned, in some way terrified and disbelieving. "What...how did-"

"More often than not the magic will do whatever it takes to protect its host." Tag unwinds the bullwhip from around her waist, letting the end hit the ice, the obsidian barbs rattling against it. "You must have been convinced Ruby could save you, so the magic sought her out."

Weiss winces as she sees the massive wolf give the Grimm a particularly hard jerk, the sickening and unmistakeable crack of bone audible above a pained, keening cry from the creature. One of its arms hangs limp, taloned fingers dragging across the ice, the other hooks the wolf's neck and pulls desperately. Weiss reflexively draws Myrtenaster, her posture fumbling as her thoughts war with themselves. _What do I do? I can't leave her like that. But we have the advantage. If I get too close, that_ thing _could just turn my sword against me...or worse, but I doubt it'll let Ruby...manhandle it like that for much longer._

"There's a thread between you now," Tag continues, "the magic has you tethered together. It's no different than what I did with the whales. I bet Ruby would follow your command if you tried."

There are no words to describe how such a prospect makes her feel. For a moment she can only look at the faunus, expression unreadable but wide-eyed before her attention is snatched up by a high-pitched yelp. The Grimm is on its back, now free from Ruby's jaws and quickly scrambling to stand, the wolf recoiling as smoke rises from the large patch of charred fur on its neck. Another white hot burst of flame from Manitcore's mouth has the animal jumping back and snarling.

Weiss means to speak, her jaw working though the words die in her throat. But her thoughts travel along their connection, the magic tether vibrating with a commingling of their aura's. Big silver eyes meet hers, the skin-deep buzzing pitching hard for a split second before the wolf quickly bounds away from the Grimm and to Weiss' side. Ruby curls around her body just so, half-crouching, putting herself between her partner and the Grimm, fangs bared and claws flexing. Without thinking Weiss puts a palm to Ruby's shoulder, finding the fur plush with a strange tingle of static against her skin, recognizing the sensation as her own magic.

"Amazing," Tag laughs a little, her wrist winding to start the whip into a spiral. "Now let's show this thing what we can do."

Manticore is upright, rolling one shoulder until it snaps back together. Its green eyes flash and settle on the Maidens, brow lowering with a vicious slant as smoke coils out of its mouth in a growling exhale. Its hands open at its sides, black mist coalescing and writhing between its fingers. With a flux of energy and a hiss of air its lance and shield materialize, and it wastes no time in putting them to use.

 

Jaune, Nora, and Ren stay close to Captain Erikson and her crew, so far successful in maintaining themselves against a steady surge of Grimm. They had tried to convince Yang to stay with them, to stay where it's safer, but the brawler would hear none of it. All they can do is push back against the skittering horde and hope those ships arrive.

Sweat is rolling across her entire body, blood running from the cut at her hairline and a busted lip. Yang's semblance roils like a wild solar flare, her aura flashing white hot and bringing steam up from the ice wherever her feet touch. Her body tucks to take another hit from one of those awful, clicking crustaceans, a little flicker of light sparking as the solid bone hammer smacks against her, the soles of her shoes skidding over the frozen surface towards the edge. The blow _hurts so good_ , her body vibrating with an eager, excited growl.

There's a ripple of warning from behind, forcing her to turn in an instant towards the water as a column of it blasts upward. The Grimm shark launches itself from below, jaws open and widening to make room for the girl it means to swallow whole. With a wicked smirk and smoldering crimson eyes she balls her fist, tucking it to her hip as the monster reaches the peak of its ascent and begins to fall at an angle towards her. Once close enough her body unwinds, springing like a steel trap, her knuckles colliding with the solid bone plating on its face and collapsing whatever skeletal structure that is holding its shape in on itself. Bits of bone and black ichor splatter outwards, its stomach splits open, and the body slumps to the ice before dissolving into black mist and slime that disappears after a second or two.

Yang means to turn and find another Grimm to crush but has to pause, the ice moving under her feet with enough force to nearly put her on her ass. With arm and stump flailing to maintain her balance she twists around, looking for anything out of place that could be causing it. Waves pitch against the rim of the frozen platform, steadily growing taller and splashing louder, until finally the open water mere feet away bubbles and swells upward.

The saurian Grimm breaks the surface with the uproar of a peel of thunder, a torrent of white water rushing down its slick and pitch scaled belly in a heavy torrent. Its length and girth are akin to some buildings, its great breaching barely enough to pull its entire body into view. Its incredible jaws fall open, countless teeth glistening in the morning light alongside the sputtering black muck gargling out of its throat and into the air. It twists its body, bending in the middle and leaning towards the ice. When Yang realizes its shadow has fallen over her she runs, doing her damnedest to ignore the urge to stand her ground and find out just how hard she could hit this thing.

The awesome impact of the Grimm's body snaps the ice in half, both ends lifted away from the water as it falls between and disappears beneath the fragments. Grimm and humans are flung into the air, some crashing together in the middle. Yang will soar right passed Weiss, scarlet eyes widening at the massive animal she is latched onto.

"That better not be Ruby!"

"I can explain!" Weiss cries as the two fly by each other in opposing directions, withering under Yang's burning gaze even as the distance between them yawns wider.

Yang would have responded with a threat of some kind had she not needed to direct her attention to not becoming a red smear on the ice below.

 

Jaune feels the jarring impact of three distinct smacks to the back of his head as he rolls across the ice towards the break in the middle. When the ice crashes down, level again, he feels the brief sensation of falling before winding up flat on his back. He opens his eyes to a spinning sky full of dark shapes, blurred outlines of bodies crashing back to earth. The roaring in his ears that he thinks is from the fall steadily clarifies as everything settles, sounding less like it's echoing in his head and more like it's coming from elsewhere. As his vision centers and focuses he makes out the great blackness of a Nevermore overhead, just barely able to comprehend as it wails and recoils against the flash and bang that collides with its side. The Nevermore flaps its wings once in hard retreat, disappearing from his field of view only to be chased by something smaller. An Atlesian fighter craft.

He forces himself to his feet, swallowing hard against the way his stomach flops over at the same time his back straightens. Looking to the southeast, towards Vale's coastline that sits thin and black on the horizon, Jaune can just make out more ships, five more fighters and one more that is much larger -large enough that he can make out the cannons mounted beneath the wings. But the comfort he feels is short lived, the relieved shrug quickly snuffed out by the mounting clicking of a fresh surge of Grimm. He raises his sword and shield in an instant as three of them crawl towards him, a horde of expletives racing through his mind at the the thick and burning pain in his shoulder at the first blow.

 

Before being catapulted into the air, Tag had managed to snatch Manticore by the ankle, the end of her whip looping and twisting to tighten in place. The otter kept hold of her weapon, knuckles white even as she did her best to roll out the impact of her awkward landing, her aura shuddering as she only half succeeds. Once stable on her feet again Tag does her best to keep her distance, keep the tightness on the whip secure so all she need do is pull just so to put the Grimm knight off balance. Manticore scrambles to do the exact opposite, lunging and leaping to keep their quarters close but not so close as to take away from the reach of its lance.

Tag braces herself with her tail as she bends backwards, her guts flinching at just how close the edge of the Grimm's weapon passes above her face, the air moving against her cheeks and bone just scraping the tip of her nose. She straightens, her taught waist bending like a hinge in the same instant Manticore pushes off with one leg while tucking the other, forcing its bone-clad knee into Tag's ribs. The heavy blow puts the Maiden on her back, breathless, but she still won't let go of the whip. Even as the Grimm knight moves over her and starts pounding away with the edge of its shield she won't loosen her grip, bright green sparks igniting the air with each collision as her aura reacts. When the frantic succession of strikes suddenly stops, Tag having only a split second to watch Manticore take a deep breath, she crosses her arms over her face and bolsters her aura to fend off the cascade of flames that spills over her.

Then the suffocating heat is gone almost as quickly as it appears, Tag forcing herself to look and find Manticore being pulled away. She sees Weiss and the big red wolf with the Grimm's barbed tail in its mouth, dragging it in insistent jerks until Tag's whip pulls tight again. The Grimm is trapped, seemingly unable to decide who to go after first. Tag twists to her feet and draws on the whip, ripping Manticore's legs out from under it and holding fast, taking one large step back. The two of them pull and pull, ignoring the steadily increasing intensity of the Grimm's snarling, until something gives.

The creature's tail thins and then snaps near the base, bits of bone and whole vertebrae flying outward as shrapnel. Nothing comes from the empty socket, no blood or black grime, but the creature writhes on its stomach with a shriek of pain as if its soul -had it anything resembling one- had just been ripped out. It tries to stand up, feet barely catching purchase on the ice only for Tag to tear its traction away. Manticore retaliates reflexively through the pain, hurling its lance at the faunus with what leverage it can muster, but appears not to care that Tag simply swats it away with the edge of her smaller shield. All the Grimm wants is the brief seconds it needs to unwind the leather from its leg and find stable footing again -it's deadly enough without its weapon.

The Grimm feels a flux of energy, the cold shock of Winter, and catches the crimson blur in its peripherals. The wolf is moving around it, trying to outflank it, but it keeps its eyes trained on the Maiden, half expecting what she's about to do. Sure enough the girl sets her stance and readies her saber before pushing off into a long-distance lunge with a surge of aura. A seemingly reactionary, half-baked strategy that the human should have known far better than to attempt. Manticore raises its empty hand, fingers splayed, the air buzzing with manipulated polarity.

Weiss regrets her decisions before she consciously realizes what she's done. Her heart drops into her stomach as the distance between her and the Grimm shrinks at break-neck speed and she feels its powers latching onto Myrtenaster. She can't react fast enough, can't stop herself as magnetism pulls her, and years of drilled conditioning won't allow her to let go of her weapon -not that it would have made much difference if she could. Panic lances through her when she sees the Manticore roll aside, the fine edge of her saber now angled at Ruby, who looks to be in the middle of an attack of her own with half her monstrous body in the air and with claws out and jaws open.

Weiss tries -god she _tries_ \- reaching for that powerful, swelling something deeper than her aura, to snatch hold of even a little bit of it as her off hand works in a wayward and outward swiping gesture with a flicker of white light gathering around her fingers. She feels something, a pulse of energy, and watches as the wolf's form is obscured by the same light that covers her hand just before she passes through it as one passes through fog.

Ruby never loses sight of the Grimm as the change comes over her, the light she had briefly become coalescing back into a definite human shape before dissipating. She emerges from it with Crescent Rose in hand, like she had before the magic struck her in the first place, still wholly intending to cut the Grimm down -all of her senses and instincts settling on dispatching it. She misses by millimeters, the edge of the blade whistling through empty air. Ruby lands solidly on both feet, bringing the scythe down to anchor it in the ice as she feels the Grimm starting to pull on it. But it isn't pulling hard enough to keep her from pulling the bolt and trigger. Maybe the Grimm isn't expecting it as it raises its shield to catch the rounds that bark from the barrel, but the advantage is short lived. What it _does_ expect is the other hunters moving it, and it sends one of the bullets off its intended course with a swat of its hand.

But, strangely, Ruby doesn't _care_. It doesn't matter that one of her own rounds almost hits Weiss. Doesn't matter that the next shot veers off at such an extreme angle that it hits Tag, clipping through her aura and tearing through her arm. All that matters is slaying the Grimm. The magic still lingering in her blood has reduced her entire world to nothing but her and Manticore and the near ravenous urge to kill it.

She takes her hand from the bolt lever and her finger off the trigger, tearing Crescent Rose out of the ice -somehow having the strength to- and letting the magnetism pull her towards the Grimm. She twists her body, spinning like a top and at an angle, and feels the heavy jarring of several impacts in quick succession as the scythe hits Manticore's shield. The last blow shatters it, splits it down the middle and tears into the Grimm knight's forearm. Ruby's feet touch solid ground but her momentum continues, the muscles in her abdomen tensing with all the power she can muster to deliver one last heavy swing.

Manticore jumps back just quick enough to save itself from being cut in half, though the blade sings with the chime of steel to bone as it splits the armor across its chest, drawing blood. It scrambles on all fours, looking from one hunter to the other but lingering longest on Ruby, the two looking at each other with equally fierce eyes and mouths cut into snarling grimaces. In the same instant that Ruby moves to start another assault, Manticore leaps away and bounds for the edge of the ice to dive into the water. Ruby actually means to pursue, tucking Crescent Rose to her chest and sprinting after it.

"Ruby, the ships are here, we have to go!" Weiss cries. She recoils slightly at the look her partner gives her, an expression the heiress can't even give a name to that's full of teeth and a heavily knitted brow. She can't blink as Ruby collapses her scythe and slides it into its harness and almost too quickly moves towards her. Ruby curls an arm about her waist, wordless as she then tears across the ice with a flurry of rose petals.

Tag has a terrible feeling, lingering only a moment longer to process it, to worry. Nothing about this seems right. That couldn't have been _it_. Grimm don't quit when they feel outnumbered, they only fight that much harder. Grimm mindlessly pummel their way to either death of victory, that is their _nature_. But this one...

Now isn't the time. With a shake of her head she gathers her whip and runs towards the waiting airship.

 

The Atlesian fighters keep the Nevermore at bay as the carrier moves into position. It's much too large to land on the ice so it's forced to hover mere feet above it, a wide hatch on its starboard side pulling open. Captain Erikson starts corralling her crew onto the carrier, counting heads as they go, still counting the one dead officer as they're carried on another's shoulder. Then she calls out to the young hunters still fending off the Grimm, demanding they "haul ass or get left behind!" Ren is the first to withdraw, his endurance sputtering and threadbare as the captain helps him aboard. Ruby appears and encourages Weiss to go next, Tag following close behind, and then she boards as well.

Jaune, Nora, and Yang are steadily drawing back, controlled bursts of gunfire matching their steps. Nora turns Magnhild in her hands, allowing it to open up into the massive hammer before giving it one heavy overhead swing. It smacks the ice with a flash of pink, spiderwebs of light cutting through the ice and breaking it apart. Most of the Grimm fall through, giving the three hunters plenty of breathing room to retreat in earnest and make a mad dash for the ship.

Jaune knows he can run faster than this, but he stays a few steps back. He has to be sure everyone makes it out. He has to be sure no one is left behind. The weight on his shoulders, the straining tension and worry in his chest starts to ease as he watches Nora jump aboard, disappearing. His team is safe now. When Yang steps off the ice he's all but calm. They can make it out of this. He'll sheath his sword but keep his shield open, freeing up one hand to grip the threshold of the hatch and pull himself up. The ship is beginning its ascent just as he straightens, finding his balance. His eyes adjust to the darkness within the ship and he starts counting heads, his heart jerking when he comes up one short.

"Where's Billy?"

They all look at each other and then to him. No one gets the chance to answer.

The saurian Grimm breaches again, coming up through the split in the ice. It shoots up from the water at an angle, as if it's trying to snatch the ship out of the air with its gaping maw, but instead smacks belly first down onto the ice. It doesn't break apart as before, instead its weight pushes the far end straight up, smacking the underside of the ship. The tip of the burg breaks away and the airship pitches.

Inside, Jaune's stomach lurches at the feeling of his feet leaving solid ground, his hand gripping the doorway tight enough to whiten his knuckles as the ship rolls. He can see the others being tossed around, some of them falling towards him as their side of the craft suddenly drops. Gravity snatches him and tears him down, his palm burning at the sharp friction before his feet are pulled behind him and his chest smacks metal. Jaune braces himself with both arms, making himself too wide to fit completely through the door, a task that only becomes more difficult as he takes a pair of pink sneakers to the face.

Something in his mind is screaming for him not to look down, but the quickest way to make sure you do something stupid is to tell yourself not to do it. With Nora's heels digging into his jaw and cheekbone he doesn't much have a choice but to look over his shoulder when he opens his eyes, zeroing in on the gaping jaws of the colossal Grimm below. It's beached on the ice, webbed and taloned forepaws keeping it from slipping back into the water. Jaune swears he sees something jump from the end of its conical snout and start scrambling frantically up the frozen incline towards the ship, something with a wild mane of bright red hair. Jaune feels his heart shudder within the cage of his ribs and he struggles to pull himself up.

Below, Manticore claws its way closer to the ship. The craft is much too large for it to pull down like before, but it will still reach out with an invisible tether of polarity to latch onto it as it reaches the end of solid ground and leaps into the air. In mere seconds Manticore has closed the gap and hooked its claws into the pair of denim-clad legs hanging out of the open hatch. The Grimm pulls itself up along his body, carelessly tearing through cloth and into his flesh until it has a foothold on his backpack. One last push vaults Manticore inside the ship while simultaneously forcing Jaune's arms to bend and shoving him out into empty air.

Jaune's head fills with static, whitewashing away the realization of falling. His lungs fill to the brim with a single sharp gasp that he can't push out again and a dull paralysis tingles through his limbs. The wind roars and whips around him...then there's nothing.

 

Manticore won't get very far. As the airship finally stabilizes the Grimm is violently ejected, punched out of the opening it had come through by a brief, shattering flash of silver light. It drops back into the sea, leaving a trail of smoke behind as the ships regroup and start northward for Atlas.

It's wounded, the Grimm as well as its host and the pain is terrible. For a long time it had forgotten what pain was like, unable to physically react to it as its body drifts face-up and spreadeagled on the surface. The dark creature trapped inside a human frame recoils, its influence weakened and pulling back like a shroud in order to recover. It tries not to focus on the crimson tinted memories of silver-eyed hunters and Witches, of being sealed and reduced to a shapeless and writhing black mass only to be shoved into a body much too small. Its only thoughts are to be still, to surrender its control over the other Grimm that have started to drift away and let the currents carry its vessel until it is fit to move again. Manticore turns in on itself, making itself as small as possible and dropping into something like hibernation.

And for just a moment, before the mounting pain swamps her consciousness and snuffs it out again, Pyrrha can see the sky.

 

_(II)_

It's raining in Vale, the light of morning smudged by heavy gray clouds. The wind is still and there's no thunder or flashes of violent light. Autumn-chilled droplets patter rhythmically against the windows of Glynda's manor, the only sound echoing mutely among the countless books of the Witch's study. Blake has spent a great deal of time here over the last few days, taking full advantage of the quiet isolation to help get her thoughts and feelings back into working order. There's a certain, deep seated comfort to be found surrounded by the stuffed old bookshelves, the scent of aged paper and leather so soothing. If it weren't for such pesky needs as food and sleep she likely would never leave. And while Blake has an almost instinctive itch to sit down and read, she has yet to touch a single book. Instead she occupies herself with an aged but well cared for chessboard and its roughly hewn ruby and malachite pieces, playing her most challenging opponent yet: herself.

With Glynda's help Blake discovered how the Summer Maiden's magic has -thus far- affected her semblance. Her shadow clones are no longer semi-corporeal and stationary afterimages of herself, they are solid and potentially independently behaving copies. Potentially being because so far all she has managed to make them do is mimic her movements, though numerous games of chess are helping expand on this initial progress. She looks across the board into her own amber and crimson eyes, seeing a reflection of her hunched posture and even the rhythmic expansion and contraction of her chest with each easy breath. They blink at the same time, ears flitting in the same direction in unison, but with a bit of effort Blake manages to reach for one of her pieces without the clone doing the same. A little smile curls the corner of her mouth as she picks up and moves the piece.

Like a plucked string, a thought vibrates between Blake and her copy and she waits to see if her clone will react. There's a small clench of uncertainty as she feels her own felid ears fold back and the mimic across from her does the same, but it eases as she she sits perfectly still while the other's hand moves towards the board. It picks up one of the knights, just as she wills it, and carefully angles the token two spaces to the left, pausing. A little exhale pushes through her when it moves it one more space forward, letting it rest where a pawn had once been.

That had taken more effort than she would have liked, but it was still better than yesterday.

The clone fluxes, becomes semi-transparent as Blake's focus is disrupted by a gentle tapping on the study door. She silently wills it to hold its shape before responding softly, not at all surprised to see Glynda as she leans through the door behind the creaking of its hinges.

The older woman pauses momentarily, blinking to be sure she's seeing double before speaking. "Sorry to interrupt,"

A little shake of her head, the gesture mimicked by the copy along with her reply of "Is everything all right?"

"Can we talk?"

The lack of a yes or no makes her hesitant. "Of course."

Glynda steps fully into the room, one hand on the door to close it only after a second body move across the threshold, a man Blake almost immediately recognizes. His name and the recollection of him perches on the tip of her tongue, pushed there by the unmistakeable reek of alcohol that prickles her keen sense of smell. His eyes meet hers briefly, his ashen brows knitting as his eyes move from her to her copy and back again, a strange mixture of malcontent and curiosity flickering across his stubble splotched face. He wordlessly leans on his front leg, drawing closer to her and giving Blake's face an uncomfortably close study, the faunus remaining stock still though her instincts are resisting. His nearness amplifies the unpleasant odor and her eyes threaten to water with a sudden, sharp burn.

Thankfully he leans away again, pushing one hand through his hair and stepping towards one of the bookshelves, putting distance between himself and the women.

"Miss Belladonna, have you met Qrow?"

"I think so, in passing."

"He's Miss Xialong's uncle."

"Oh, yes, now I remember." she nods, her clone doing to same as well as mimicking when she turns in her chair and crosses her legs. "...Can I ask why he's here?"

"You can say I'm kinda in the business of the Maidens," his voice is so rough, drawing Blake's attention like steel grinding over concrete, "especially since my sister was one of them."

The clone disappears in a ripple of darkness as Blake's feline ears snap back against her head and her expression stretches to coincide with her sinking heart. She swallows, "Raven was...?"

He nods, one slow dip of his chin. "But that isn't what this is about, not entirely anyway."

"So what were you able to find?" Glynda steps in, a little of the tension in the room lifting. "I received all of your texts,"

He nods again, propping himself against the shelf. "We've managed to pin down where this Cinder woman came from, and that she might have been raised by a Witch."

One blonde brow rises above the rim of her glasses. "Any idea if she is a Witch herself?"

Qrow shakes his head. "According to Holiday she was an orphan, no way to be certain one way or another."

"It might explain how she infiltrated Beacon so easily,"

"She could've learned that from _anyone._ " he chuffs. "It's my understanding that her and Torchwick were partners in that mess, and _he_ had access to everything but the kitchen sink. But, then again, that doesn't mean it isn't possible."

"Let's try to stay away from theories for now, if you please. Did you learn anything definite?"

"Yeah. Cinder's looking for something specific."

"Oh?"

"According to the Arc boy and his lot, she's after a mirror. They recognized a couple of students from the Vytal Festival making off with one."

Glynda's glasses slip down her nose as her other brow rises, the expression holding for but a second before her arms cross, almost hugging herself and shifting her feet.

"Salem's mirror?"

Qrow smirks lazily as he looks at Blake again. "Well look who's been listening. How much do you know?"

Blake's hands fuss a little in her lap. "Enough to know how important a mirror can be to the right Witch. So?"

Qrow exhales with a chesty chuckle. "Thankfully it isn't hers, but I would imagine that's the endgame."

"How do you know it isn't?"

"Because we already know where Salem's focus is." his dark red eyes slide to Glynda for a moment. "And we know she won't get it so long as it stays right where it is."

"But this is still a considerable problem." Glynda adjusts her glasses. "Taking into account that Cinder was able to _steal_ a Maiden's powers, she may be using the focus objects for personal gain just as much as she could be aiding Salem."

"Is that possible?" Blake asks.

"Unfortunately, yes. Maidens are much like Witches, although when the Maiden's were created, it would seem the wizard neglected to make them subject to certain _rules_. In some ways they have a great deal more...liberty with their magic. Using a focus that isn't their own likely isn't a stretch."

"So we're certain it's Salem now? No reasonable doubt about it?" Qrow tilts his head.

"Miss Belladonna's contact with Raven coupled with what you've told me seems to point to that." Glynda nods, reluctant. "At least that's something certain."

Qrow inches his shoulders, not exactly comforted.

"About your texts? If you don't mind changing the subject, that is. You found Spring and Winter?"

He nods. "I was kind of right, you know; I had always been suspicious of the Schnees."

"Oh? Which one?"

"It _was_ Winter." he almost laughs again, amused by the coincidence.

"So the rumors were true? She died?" She sees the faunus flinch in her peripherals, a little hitch of breath that jogs her shoulders.

"No, not in the permanent sense."

Her brow lowers, "I don't follow."

"I think the news is just propagating that gossip for her protection, but it was only long enough for the magic to look for a new host. It went to Weiss."

Blake's ears flatten again and her heart hitches. She feels the muscles in her jaw bunching, trying to make her mouth move to form words, but nothing comes.

"Oh dear." comes Glynda's cryptic sigh.

"Is she all right?" Blake finally manages to say.

"So far so good, I think. Ruby and Yang are with her now, so..."

"And Spring?" Glynda takes back his attention.

"She and her Guardian are with the kids too."

The Witch nods, visibly relieved to a degree. "Who is she?"

"You remember the hunt in Menagerie and the faunus village? I know it was some time ago, but,"

"How could I forget?" her expression darkens, remembering.

"Our guide, it's her daughter."

"I see." she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, wondering how many more times that day was going to nip at her heels. "And she's agreed to help?"

"I think so."

Though Glynda doesn't seem thoroughly pleased, more so suspicious. "As grateful as I am, something just doesn't feel right. It feels like it's all falling in our laps."

"In a way, yeah, I get what you mean, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, there's bad to go with the good."

"Ah, well that makes it all right then." sarcasm laces the breathy laugh. "Nice how some things never change. So?"

He smiles in spite of himself, not actually amused at all. "We might be dealing with some kind of jacked-up, Grimm-human hybrid."

All of the color in Glynda's face bleeds out in an instant, the weight of his words manifesting in the steady widening of her eyes. For a moment her mouth hangs ajar, her mind quiet of all thoughts and notions. Then she sputters, trying to adjust her glasses though they don't need to be, a habitual gesture in an attempt to ground herself. "H-how is that...what do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Mind you, all I have is second hand from a bunch of worn out kids and old stories, but that's what I could take from it. A Grimm with a semblance."

"That's not possible." Blake says firmly, as if citing some irrefutable, cosmic law. "Grimm don't have souls, they _can't_ have a semblance."

Qrow's eyes thin on her, a firm line pulling around his mouth on one side. "No, but humans do, and humans _can_." He looks to Glynda again. "You ever heard anything like this before, Goodwitch? Because I haven't."

Glynda is silent, her hand resting over her mouth and her eyes focused on the floor, moving this way and that, possibly searching for an answer to pluck from thin air. "I...no, I can't think of anything. My god," she exhales, seeming somewhat nervous. "I...I'll try to contact my sister, maybe she'll have something." she looks up, her hand cupping the back of her neck. "Where are the girls now?"

"In Atlas by now. They should be okay."

" _Should_ ,"

"Don't get your magic wand in a bunch, alright? Chances are Atlas is the safest place for them right now, doubly so since the assassination attempt. They've got an entire army in front of them, even James could do in a pinch."

"You don't still trust him, do you?" she gapes at him.

"Marginally, and mostly out of necessity. At the very least we can count on him to protect Weiss if for no other reason than to save face. I don't like it, and I'm sure _you_ don't either, but it's the best we've got until I can get a power nap and start back that way myself."

"Then please, by all means, make yourself comfortable. Whatever you need to do." Glynda nods, her eyes on the floor again. "If you'll excuse me." and she all but runs out the door. She's a woman on a mission with a sensation of very little time to accomplish it.

Qrow and Blake remain in the study, silent and absorbed in their own thoughts for a time. The older hunter fishes his flask from his pocket, tipping back his chin two, three times before putting it away again. Still propped against the bookshelf he puts his hands behind his head, stifling a yawn as he raises his eyes. Blake stares into her own lap, focusing on her hands as the pads of her thumbs rhythmically stroke against the bends of her index fingers. He briefly wonders what's going through her mind.

"I should go with you." her voice is tight, almost choked into a whisper.

"Yeah, you should." he shrugs.

"But..." her brows knit together, her lips thinning.

"But what?"

Blake hugs herself, shoulders inching as her biceps bunch, her eyes rising to his knees and her ears flitting. "...What if they won't take me back?"

"Whether they want you or not, they _need_ you. You four need to be a team again or you don't stand a chance."

"How could we function as a team if they don't trust me anymore?"

"What makes you think they don't?"

 _I left. I ran away without a word. I abandoned them._ But all she can get out is "...I don't know."

"That won't change if you don't try."

Blake takes a breath, her stomach tightening like her chest. "What do I tell them?"

"The hell are you asking _me_ that for?"

She recoils, ears folding back.

"Look. I'm not the best at mending bridges, I'm more the burning sort." Qrow exhales, grumbling. "In any case, you're a Maiden now, and that's bigger than all the hurt feelings you girls have going between you. A _lot_ bigger. You understand?"

Blake nods quietly, still staring at his knees.

"Still...at the very least, you owe them the effort."

The conversation seems to die there, Blake having no response as she tries to process everything he said. She fights to keep her mind on his words instead of the countless tangents her mind tries diverting to, countless horrible possibilities and potential disasters of facing her teammates again. Thoughts of them make her focus zero in, make her speak before she really means to.

"How is Yang?"

Qrow almost smiles when Blake manages to meet his eyes. "Not too bad for a girl who almost got shanked by a waitress." the expression breaks through when Blake flinches, her features pulling with wordless shock. "Although if you want my personal opinion...she's got a long way to go and she's going to need more than Ruby to get where she needs to be."

Blake sees his features soften, something changing in his eyes as the last of the words leave him. A sort of...almost paternal worry or sadness. As much as she could smell him from across the room, she thought him simply too numb to feel anything other than his natural snark. She takes another breath, her thoughts breaking up again for a second or two. When they come back together she finds herself speaking without fully thinking again.

"I'm sorry about Raven. I didn't want to do it."

"I know." Qrow tilts back his head, resting it against the bookshelf with a muted _thump_. "So am I. We all tried to find a way to get that mark off of her...me, Ozpin...Summer died trying. It was after Summer was gone that I really felt Raven pull away, she didn't want to hurt those girls -thought it would make Summer's sacrifice a waste." He sniffs and pulls his hand across his nose.

"I-,"

"I'm sure Glynda told you this already, but Raven picked you for a reason. Maybe she wanted you to do what she couldn't...maybe...hell, who really knows. Just...try not to let her be wrong, alright?"

Blake just swallows at the thickness in her throat, trying not to feel suddenly so overwhelmed.

 

 

 

Author's Note: Holy crap, two weeks. That's how long that damn fight scene took me to get out. Anyway, so yeah, next chapter should be  _ much more _ character oriented. I feel like a lot of the plot set up is out there now, so I can focus more on character relationships for a while. No telling when the next chapter will be out, but here's to hoping it'll be a week. Questions and comments are always welcome and appreciated.

 


	12. Chapter Eleven

Salem is alone in her throne room. That is, if one can call a great span of solid stone not as littered with stones and stalagmites as the others with a collection of them forming something akin to a lofty seat a throne room. Hunched painfully, fists against her face, she is silent. For nearly two decades this otherwise empty chamber had only echoed with whispers and footsteps, her own voice in regards to only herself as she paced without consideration for the time she might have wasted. But for the last hour she has been wailing, shrieking in agony as a terrible burning ripped through her eyes and brought them to bleeding. Thick and dark rivulets course between her fingers and over her pale hands, blending in with the hideous veins beneath her skin. More still pools and drips from the tip of her nose as gravity pulls it there. Her face is otherwise twisted into a silent scream, lips pulled back and laying bare her edged teeth. Little tremors work through her shoulders, a manifestation of the sickening mixture of fury and pain roiling up from her ribcage.

After the screaming comes the rhythmic and desperate sucking breaths, an instinctual struggle for composure. Steadily, inch by inch she's able to straighten. Her chin remains tucked as her spine lines upright, hands still concealing her face, heavy exhales pushing between them. Salem cringes at the distinct wet sound of half congealed blood being pulled apart as she lifts her palms, a toothy grimace set firm in her features as she looks down and sees the thick darkness pooling in the creases of her hands. Fingers hook in a shaking pitch of anger, a growl crawling out of her chest.

"That... _child_ ," she hisses to herself, her teeth tight together, unmoving as the words form. Her crimson eyes thin perilously, the irises glowing like dying suns. " _Damn_. _That_. _Child_."

First Jabberwocky, now this.

On the one hand, her connection to the massive dragon was not nearly as intrinsic as it is with Manticore. Her bond with Jabberwocky had been aged, thinned by its dormancy, allowing her the most basic advantage her semblance and magic could afford. That red-hooded  _brat_ had only done minor harm to herself, and the gaping void that dwelled inside of her took the brunt of it. But this,  _this_ ; Salem's tether to Manticore was so much more intimate, and this incident made her pay for it.

Manticore kowtowed to her, to the thing living inside of her, having slain it herself in this place after having been dragged through the portal with it. And while a Grimm of its persuasion could never truly be destroyed, it recognized her authority over it even after being reconstituted and forced inside a human shell. It remembered her magic and respected its pseudo-death at her hand, thus giving her semblance more sway over it, making it so much easier for Salem to command and influence it. It also allowed her to see -to some degree- through its eyes even after it had passed through the mirror.

The rage pitches again, her mind's eye flooded with silver light and a red cape. Then, like an electric shock to her brain, the image flickers back in time to Raven's Guardian, to Summer Rose, the memory jerking an ugly, choking sob out of her as it becomes part of a blurred burial mound of recollections.

_We were supposed to protect each other._ They _were supposed to protect_ me _._

Her eyes burn as if to fill with tears but none come, there haven't been tears in nearly twenty years.

Salem swallows it all down, shoving it back into the darkness inside her as she snaps to her feet. Pitch robes billow around her as she strides quickly, almost defiantly towards the wall of volcanic glass, jaw clenching with intent as she reaches out to touch it. Crimson light radiates from where her fingertips make contact, vibration humming through the glass, through the unseen reaches of the ether between realms. Just as her patience begins to thin beyond what she can tolerate, Cinder's likeness blossoms to life, a back-lit hologram of sorts.

"Where are you?" she refuses to waste time on pleasantries.

Cinder doesn't respond immediately, likely having to make a conscious effort in hiding her disgust at Salem's bloodied face. "Mistral."

"I want you in Atlas as soon as possible. One of the Maidens is a Schnee." The prestigious family's crest on the girl's clothing is the only other thing to stand out among the blinding platinum flood in her mind.

"Oh?" her surprise is minor but still visible.

"And I would certainly prefer it if you see to the matter  _yourself_ this time."

"My pleasure. But what about Manticore, did your pet project not turn out like you hoped?"

"That is none of your concern, though it has certainly proven more successful than  _you_ in any case." Salem feels a small blossom of amusement at the way Cinder scowls, though it wilts as quickly as it forms. "As it stands I believe your body count is  _tied_ now."

A visible flinch echoes through Cinder's image in the mirror.

"So you may want to consider redoubling your efforts, that is, if you wish to remain on my  _good side._ "

"With all due respect, you don't have a good side."

Salem almost laughs. "True enough. Now go, do as I ask and inform me the moment the job is done."

"As you wish."

Salem reaches for the mirror, her hand pausing just inches above the glass, Cinder's image rippling out of sight before she can banish it herself. She tucks her chin, half looking over her shoulder, eyes thinned in suspicion. That once stilled fury billows back to life as she registers the itching sensation of being watched.

Someone is attempting to pierce the veil again.

 

On the other side Cinder inhales and exhales, quietly but clearly annoyed as she slips the palm-sized mirror out of sight. She, Emerald, Mercury, and Neo occupy a table at a noisy inn in Mistral, Cinder's back situated to the wall to do away with the little worry of anyone looking over her shoulder. Her cohorts mimic each other's posture, elbows on the table and leaning in, waiting.

"What's the old goat-woman carrying on about now?"

Cinder isn't about to chastise Mercury for voicing a thought she herself has had before, but she doesn't let her amusement show either. "She believes there's a Maiden in Atlas. A Schnee, no less."

Emerald and Mercury look at each other, wordless. Emerald doesn't even turn her head, not until they all do to see Neo as she claps her palms excitedly together with a smile wide enough to border on unhinged before she begins quickly signing.

"Not this time, I want you to stay with me." Cinder seems genuinely disappointed to say so, partly touched at how her Guardian wilts in her chair. Her hands start moving again, the motions punctuated jerks meant to convey a tone of dissatisfaction. "I know you're bored, but I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Emerald and Mercury continue to watch her sign, Neo's delicate brow knitting and her eyes thinning.

Cinder sighs, uncrossing her legs beneath the table. "Let's be fair, Emerald and Mercury deserve an opportunity to redeem themselves, don't they?"

Mercury's face scrunches. "What's all this 'redeem' shit? We got your damn mirror, didn't we?"

"Yes, but you didn't manage to kill anyone. That's not much of a victory if you really think about it." and she chuckles quietly, comfortably. "So I'll give you two one more chance.  _Then_ , Neo," her smoldering gaze slides to her left, "you can do as you please. Alright?"

Neo crosses her arms and pouts, begrudgingly accepting the terms.

"So I want you an Emerald to leave immediately."

The muscles in Mercury's jaw bunch momentarily. "And what are  _you_ going to do?"

"I'm going to look into some new leads." And Cinder responds with an audible wariness, spying the old mirror hanging over the hearth across the room. "There are still other Maidens to find."

Whether or not Mercury bought her reasoning was beyond Cinder's concern, all that mattered to her is to see him nod and stand up, touching Emerald on the shoulder as he starts away from the table to encourage her to follow. Her dusky brows knit as she watches Emerald remaining still, chin tucked and submissive in her seat for several seconds.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing."

"Oh, come now," her expression softens, "you can tell me."

Emerald is quiet again, features pulling inward, her thoughts weighing one another. She stands with an exhale, the breath covered up by the groan of wooden chair legs moving across the floor. A part of her begs her to shut up, to just insist it really is nothing, even say she's just tired and on her period, but something makes her ignore it. Something compels her to tell the truth.

"This...I didn't sign up for this." her entire body tenses as she comprehends her own voice, strangely clear among the humdrum of the busy inn. "Hunting people down..."

Cinder waits, curious if there's more, her molten eyes smoldering when no further words emerge. She straightens, back rigid, shoulders level, her posture commanding Emerald's full attention. She takes a breath. "You  _signed up_ to do as you are told."

Emerald's expression is clearly tense but strangely neutral. She's waiting for that notoriously quick hand of hers to connect with her face, though it never comes. All she'll feel is the almost suffocating weight of Cinder's eyes as she holds the Fall Maiden's gaze.

" _Well_ ?"

She flinches, Cinder's expectant word bringing a sweltering wave of heat across her skin. Emerald nods unsteadily. "We'll try to contact you as soon as we reach Atlas."

"See that you do."

Cinder will watch her leave, eyes thin all the while, her thoughts turning like clockwork. Once she's out of sight Cinder relaxes back in her chair, ordering a round of wine shortly after.

 

_(II)_

Weiss' scroll vibrates madly in her pocket. It's been going off since they entered Atlesian airspace and into the reach of its main communications tower, but she ignores it. Its silent alarms barely register through the almost nausea that hangs on her, been hanging on her for the entirety of the few hours it took for the ship to land. The few hours she spent looking but not speaking, taking in everything and offering up nothing as she sits with the others in the carrier's sick bay, her mind buzzing and buzzing. Her thoughts blur together like rampant, bleeding watercolors, every image formed in her mind's eye having frayed edges.

Nora's crying. She's been sobbing into Ren's shoulder nearly the entire trip. And every time she quiets down, possibly finished, she just starts again. Ren's expression is the most emotive that she has ever seen, his eyes wide and bleary with the tears that either he won't allow or simply won't surface. He holds on to Nora like it's the only thing he's capable of.

Yang gripes at being harassed by the medical staff, telling them time and again that she's fine. She goes so far as to threaten a technician that tries offering her something for the pain she must be feeling from a blow to the head, promising to "change his fucking gender" if he comes one step closer with a syringe. Weiss can't help but wonder if Yang might just like pain a little too much these days.

Tag is the exact opposite, exceptionally calm and accepting of medical attention to the bullet wound in her arm. Her only resistance comes and goes with simple questions brought about by being unaccustomed to this sort of treatment. She's more curious than afraid of the shot they give her, marveling at how the pain simply disappears while they carefully extract a bit of metal and bandage it up. She thanks them and resigns to sit quietly, the pad of one thumb stroking circles on the opposite wrist. The faunus seems untroubled, enviously so. Then again it could just be the side effects of the drugs they gave her.

Ruby hadn't said a word to anyone. She retreated into herself, pulling her hooded cape around her like an impenetrable shield and all but disappearing into the corner she occupies. Weiss finds herself constantly looking at her, her heart clenching tight enough to hitch her breath. More than once her gaze is pulled away to meet Yang's red-rimmed lilac eyes, the older sister's leer almost accusatory. Weiss swallows, withers, and breaks away, unable to stand the heat that washes over her recovering aura.

In regards to herself, Weiss is unsure how to feel, though she swears her body is demanding she feel every emotion all at once along with her mind trying to make her micromanage everything going on around her. She has an almost alien urge to bite her nails -something she has _never_ done- to give herself something physical and _real_ to bring it all back to center. A small part of her wants to forget the morning's events like one forgets a passing dream, but Weiss won't allow it. She forces herself to accept that it all happened, and that their numbers had been reduced by two because of it. Billy had disappeared when the airship crashed, no one could recall having seen them. And Jaune...

They had all seen and -strangely- not seen it happen. They had all watched, gaping and helpless as he was ripped out of the open hatch of the airship, his form quickly replaced with the Grimm knight and its fractured bone plates, tearing claws, and horrible green eyes. After it was so decidedly removed Nora had scrambled to the doorway, looking down into the sea below for _any_ sign of Jaune. All she could see was the broken up pieces of the ice platform they had been standing on. Even the giant Grimm had disappeared. Nora had called for him, his name erupting as a broken scream. Ren had to tear her away so the hatch would close.

Weiss would not-so-readily admit that she didn't have much fondness for Jaune beyond that of an acquaintance, but she had never wished harm on him. Certainly nothing like this. For a moment her thoughts get away from her, turning into the cold and practical reasonings of a Schnee: _Maybe this is better. Maybe they can be together now._

Her stomach turns over.

Good god, what a day. And it's barely half over.

Weiss feels relief wash over her, exhaling at the gentle jarring of the craft touching down onto solid ground. Not so much the comfort of being in her home kingdom again, but more so not being over open water. As badly as she wants to return to terra firma, Weiss waits and watches everyone else file out of the infirmary, unconsciously counting heads. Ruby lingers under her watch for several seconds; maybe she fell asleep? Weiss almost says her name, the word forming in her mouth but stopping as her partner moves, standing up without her cloak moving much at all. Still concealed, still defensive, she walks out, Weiss following not too close behind. She can almost feel Ruby's aura's repulsing pressure, a silent request that she -and anyone else sensitive to it- keep their distance for now.

There are flurries in the air in spite of the only mostly cloudy skies, cold winds pushing across the city in abrupt, staggering gusts. Most of them disembark without a reaction save for a flinch to the chill. The two Maidens, however, mimic each other in a sharp recoil and keen squeak as the cold works right through their still damp clothing -not to mention that Tag isn't wearing shoes and even her midriff is exposed.

" _Nature's grace_ ," Tag gasps, "and people actually _live_ here?!"

"Yeah," Yang laughs as she strolls across the tarmac, "and they can be just as welcoming."

"Hush, you," Weiss hisses through her teeth, hoping the way they have started to click together isn't audible.

"Is this snow?" though the faunus still shivers, her tight discomfort is lined with fascination. "I've never seen it outside the presence of Dust. It's pretty."

"It will be just as nice to look at through a window once we're _inside_." Weiss hugs herself, hands moving feverishly up and down her arms in hopes of generating some warmth.

"Miss Schnee,"

Weiss mentally cringes as she comprehends General Ironwood's presence, he in his perfectly pressed uniform and in the company of a specialist walking with purpose towards them. Weiss makes her way to the front of the pod of young hunters and officers, settling to match strides with Captain Erikson. The general would ease into keeping pace with them.

"I have transportation waiting for you." he begins, his tone neutral. "I'm glad to see you arrived safely."

"Much appreciated, general." she's still shivering, fighting to keep her jaw steady as she speaks. "And you can thank Captain Erikson and her crew for that, as well as to the officer in charge of the outpost for the quick reinforcements."

He nods once, a sharp, practiced motion. "Will you be returning to the manor?"

"I will, along with my team." she mimics the gesture. "Any changes in security around my property?"

"With your sister being discharged, we've upped it slightly, yes. And she's still being escorted by Specialist Holiday."

She nods again. "Does Winter know I'm here?"

"Once the carrier entered our airspace I saw to it that she was contacted. She's eager to see you."

Warmth blossoms in her chest, comforting. But she dwells on it briefly. "General, I need a search detail organized as soon as possible."

"Oh?"

"We lost two hunters in the bay, and without concrete evidence that they're...no longer with us, I'm going to consider them missing. Can you make that happen?"

"I'll see to the matter personally if you prefer."

Her knee-jerk reaction is to say no, having yet to forget their abrasive interaction some two months ago following her father's funeral. But she swallows it down, this wasn't the time. "What do you need?"

"Name, age, physical description,"

"One of them is Jaune Arc."

"Ah." As a student of a combat school, his records could be accessed for anything he needed to know.

"The other is a bison faunus named Billy, approximately seven feet tall -thick build, of native Menagerine descent and in their early fifties." with the ease she rattles off the details one would think she had done this before. More so it's just the years of almost Pavlovian discipline initially meant to run an international corporation. "Is that enough?"

"Plenty. I'll have it organized within the hour."

"Thank you, general."

Ironwood walks with them to the military transport vehicles idling in wait, offering the courtesy of opening the door for Weiss, though she concedes to let Yang and Ruby go first. She nods to Tag when she says she'll ride with Nora and Ren, not wanting them to be alone. They were relatively safe now, so there's no hesitation in splitting up.

"Miss Schnee,"

Weiss pauses after settling into the seat, hands folding in her lap reflexively.

"I want to be of as much help as possible."

"I understand, general."

"I was able to convince Ozpin that I could be trusted, depended on," his usually stoic features flinch a little, soften. "And I'd like the opportunity to prove the same to you."

For a moment she just looks back at him, face unreadable. She takes a breath and exhales easily, trying to hide a suddenly mounting fatigue. "I'll consider it. And thank you again." She relaxes back into the seat, letting him shut the door.

The ride to the manor is blissfully quiet, no small talk or interrogations. Yang is in the middle, fully occupied with massaging the end of her stump with a tight knit to her features. Ruby has squashed herself into her seat, coiled up as she often is in bed and still hiding in her cloak. Weiss props her elbow on the door, letting her head rest in her hand, the world falling away and washed out by the hum of the vehicle's engine. A half hour of peace.

It's just as quiet in the car that trails behind them, Nora finally having tired herself out. Ren holds one hand and Tag holds the other even though she doesn't feel like it's her place. But she knows loss, so perhaps it actually is.

No one is too quick to move when the vehicles roll to an easy stop in front of the manor, but they all do eventually, forming a broken line along the paved path to the front door that opens to them from the inside.

"Welcome home, Miss Schnee."

She smiles, actually comforted to be here for a change. "Thank you, Klein."

"...And guests?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," she sputters, cheeks turning a bit pink. It had never actually crossed her mind to send word ahead. Truly embarrassing.

"It's quite all right, miss, I'll have the staff prepare the guest rooms immediately. And, considering the time, should I inform the kitchen crew as well?"

To be honest, she can't imagine any of them being hungry after the hellacious morning they were forced to stomach. "Perhaps later, though I would like some coffee, if you please. That's all for now."

"Very good, miss." a little smile lifts the corner of his mustache as he dips his chin, easing into a steady gait to attend his task.

"I know _I_ could use a stiff drink," Yang says just loud enough to hear, a little snicker working out at the end.

"I don't think so." Weiss half turns. "And no smoking either. Not only can I not _stand the smell_ , but I'll be getting in touch with your surgeon and I'm sure the last thing they want is that garbage showing up on your blood work."

Yang rolls her eyes, conceding, still smirking. A smirk that dies as she watches Weiss turn the rest of the way to face her, taking three resolute steps in her direction, and hold out her hand.

"Hand them over."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all." Weiss holds her gaze, fingers curling. "I'm not above taking them."

The brawler lifts her chin and looks down her nose. "I'd like to see you climb up here and try, shorty."

One snowy brow twitches. "You said so yourself that it isn't a habit, so you shouldn't have a problem going without them."

It takes a moment, some tense seconds of the two staring each other down with steadily souring expressions, but Yang relents. With a shrug and another roll of her eyes she works her hand down the front of her shirt, into her bra, and pulls out the small carton to place in Weiss' waiting palm.

"Happy now?"

She nods once. "Thank you."

"I better get those back."

"Not in my house, you won't." Weiss counters as she turns away.

"Now wait just one damn min-,"

Weiss ignores her completely, her attention on their exchange disappearing as she sees Winter crossing the floor from the bottom of the grand staircase, Specialist Holiday electing to hang back so as not to intrude.

Initially there are no words, though the sisters seem thoroughly happy to see each other. Weiss is happy to see her sister moving about on her own power and relatively safe at home, no longer dressed in a hospital gown and hooked to machines and harried by doctors every other hour. She's happy that Winter smiles so freely and opens her arms to her, happy that they're able to just hold one another for a moment as they meet in the middle.

"Weiss,"

"Hm?"

"Are your clothes wet?"

"Only a little."

Winter leans back, giving Weiss a much closer inspection now that she can. "Your hair...you look terrible. What happened?"

A lump forms in Weiss' throat as she looks up, and she fights to put the tired smile on her face as she realizes she likely _does_ look an absolute fright. "It's been a very... _long_ day so far."

"So it appears." worry pulls the older Schnee's features, delicate lines forming in her brow. "I expect you to tell me all about it...that is, if you have the energy."

"I'll be all right," Weiss nods, " _after_ a change of clothes and some coffee." Maybe a hot shower while she's at it. Yes, a shower sounded wonderful.

"And your...?" Winter looks away from her briefly, her gaze fixing on Tag, unable to recall the last time a faunus was in this house.

"Yes, they'll be staying with us for a...while." Heavens, she really hadn't thought this completely through. "But I'll make sure they don't disturb you, don't worry."

"I'm not worried at all, in fact I'm glad to see your number of friends has grown. Besides, from what I heard coming down the stairs, you have a considerable handle on things." and Winter offers up a knowing, almost proud smile.

"Well, I do my best." Weiss tries to be modest, though internally she's beaming. A little part of her wanted to rub it in Yang's face.

"And it shows." Winter nods. "But once you've all had a chance to get settled, I would like for us to have some time to talk in private."

"Of course." And at the moment, Weiss couldn't care less what Winter had in mind, only that -even if for a short while- it would just be the two of them together.

"But don't rush yourself, I've got time. Daisy and I will wait for you in the den whenever you're up for it."

"Daisy?" It's a rare occasion that her sister ever referred to someone outside of the family by their first name.

Winter smiles, no explanation offered, just a parting embrace before she leaves the room.

 

It won't be a long wait for the guestrooms to be made liveable, fresh linens on the beds and towels in the bathrooms. All of them gave up their clothes to be laundered, trading them out for the provided pajamas emblazoned with the Schnee family crest or simple cotton shirts and pants. Nora and Ren bury themselves into bed, meaning to remain there undisturbed as the lock clicks into place and echoes through the spacious corridor. Yang tries to follow Ruby into her room, but she must have felt the abrasion of her little sister's aura, forcing her to pause and only watch as Ruby disappeared behind the door, leaving Yang alone to do the same.

"Is there TV in these rooms?" Yang asks Weiss before she loses sight of her.

The heiress hangs in the doorway of her own room some feet away. "Yes, though I'll admit I only know what the news channels are."

"That's fine, I'll make due. But I warn you now, I intend to watch porn with the volume all the way up in protest of you taking my cigarettes."

Weiss' expression flattens, eyes thin. "With the way this house is built, the only one you're going to embarrass is yourself. But knock yourself out if it makes you happy." and they just so happen to stick their tongues out at the exact same moment in defiance of each others' stubbornness.

For the first time in weeks Weiss is comfortable in her bedroom, feeling suddenly liberated as the door closes behind her, leaving everything outside for now. She moves leisurely about her room, unconsciously staying clear of the big bay window as she dresses down in preparation of her shower. Another task she takes without hurry. When she emerges in a silk nightgown and a plush, pale blue housecoat, hair up in a towel, she's pleased to find coffee and all its fixings waiting for her. Her first cup is only half full but she drinks it mostly out of the need to have it quickly, just to delve into the warmth it always brings her sooner rather than later. She exhales, content, and slows down to prepare a second cup. She picks up the folded newspaper on the tray before easing over to her bed and sitting down.

Weiss spends the next hour and a half between her coffee, the newspaper, the news, and dozing off. An hour and a half to focus on next to nothing and let herself relax. She still hasn't checked her scroll, half dreading the mess of messages she likely has waiting for her, and refuses to do so for at least another day. She'll go so far as to leave the device in her room when she puts on a pair of slippers and ventures out into the hallway, making her way towards the den on the ground floor.

 

_(III)_

Jaune doesn't remember hitting the ice, doesn't remember the way his body went limp when it bounced. All his rattled brain can comprehend is the brief blossom of pain at the back of his head and the darkness the impact had thrown him into and the drifting of free-fall. The world is black and quiet now, serene even, and seems to go on forever. Deeper and deeper down. He doesn't mean for it to take him, but he doesn't resist. He can't.

Faint sensations that swell into something stronger, something big enough to trigger memories and thoughts. Floating like this reminds him of home, of summers he spent at the lake on his back, just drifting on the surface with his ears beneath the water and blocking out everything else until he fell asleep. The gentle sting of his resulting sunburn permeates the static surrounding him and settles in his skin, attempts to pull him back to the surface. Blurred pictures start trying to form, smudges of blue and white and bright yellow, mixing together until they're indistinguishable.

It all turns blue. A dark, midnight velvet stretches from one corner of his mind's eye to the other. It's dotted with stars and a diffused replica of the shattered moon. The horizon tries to form, managing something partial, but is wholly unimportant even to his memory. What's important is the staggering scarlet silhouette that materializes and draws the entirety of his subconscious focus, coalescing the image to the clarity of a razor's edge.

This night must have played back in his head as a daydream a million times, every time beginning in the same instant, that moment she walked in front of him and all his attention was torn away from Neptune -had it been Neptune?- and fell on her. Jaune remembers watching her ascend the ballroom staircase that led to the balcony, seemingly resigned, and the brief second he takes to move his feet and follow her. And while it hadn't registered at the time, he remembers the fake smile she put on for him when he can't believe she didn't have a date for the dance. Now that face, the sadness in her eyes, all but haunts him.

Jaune feels his body jerk, his consciousness lifting a little further, resisting the hitching pain in his ribs.

He tries instead to remember the bright bubbles of her laughter. Had he really made her that happy? No, it had to have been his dress. He tries to remember what it was like to see her eyes light up when he took her hand and pulled her close to him. All he wants to think about is how the world around them faded and it was just them, and what he would willingly give just to hear her laugh again.

_I'd give anything._

_Then give me your eyes._

Everything begins to break apart like ashes on a hot breeze, the sweet veneer of his dream becoming corrupted as the black nothingness surrounds him again. His consciousness is beginning to scramble, reach for whatever it needs to wake him up. Jaune can feel his heart starting to pound, the image in his mind's eye steadily becoming unrecognizable. He can't look away or banish the image of her as her skin pales to a sickening grayness -like death- and seems to fracture with dark crimson veins. The green of her eyes flashes bright and toxic, the whites going black and they seem to burn right through him. He perceives fangs in her mouth as her face contorts into an expression he can't possibly name. He can feel gripping, powerful hands tearing into him, clawing over him.

Then it isn't Pyrrha at all. His mind's eye blinks and the thing her memory became has vanished, ripped away to reveal something almost as horrifying. Something with white hair and bleeding brimstone eyes. Panic rails through him as he distinctly feels a cold and solid hand clutching at his jaw.

_I'm going to_ shatter you _, boy._

Now more than ever he wants to look away, but can't, even as her other ghostly white hand manifests out of the darkness and moves towards his face with hooked fingers. There's the detached sensation of his own limbs thrashing mindlessly against her.

_Go ahead,_ fight me _-fight just like_ she _did- but I can guarantee you this will be much easier than what Manticore is going to do to you._

He feels a scream perched -no, _bulging_ \- in his throat, but he can't open his mouth. He can feel the ice cold prick of her claws on his skin, the pads of her thumbs moving over his eyes.

There's a stabbing shock of pain through his skull.

Jaune's senses come back to him in rush, a riot of stimuli that has him scrambling to right himself. There's water in his ears, up to his shoulders and all over his face, at least he hopes it's water even though it doesn't taste like it and smells like hot garbage and fresh sick. He sputters for air, half choking, his body throbbing with the mad cadence of his heart. He opens his eyes and panics.

"Jaune, you all right, boy?"

"...Is that you, Billy?" he turns around, the mess he's half-submerged in sloshing around him. "I-I can't see."

"Because it's dark as night in here," the response is a chesty grunt. "We're inside the monster's gut."

His heart clenches as so many things are suddenly understood. No, this isn't water he's swimming in, not at all. Now he can feel the burning in his skin and realizes why. "Oh my god,"

"Keep it together, I need your help if we're going to get out of this. Get over here, I can't use my hands."

Jaune can't see it, but the massive faunus has wedged themselves into the opening of the Grimm's stomach, using every ounce of strength they can muster to keep the fleshy passage from closing. If it was allowed to, the stomach acid would fill this disgusting chamber they were trapped in.

"Use your ears, boy! Follow my voice." they snap when he takes too long. "We'll have time to worry about it later!"

He quickly twists again, finding almost no traction as he treads toward the sound, the semi-solid ground beneath his feet feeling like slimy rubber. Jaune takes as quick a set of strides as he can manage, hands out until he can touch something.

"Mind those hands,"

"Sorry,"

"I need you to reach for my bag, the big one."

He only nods, his hands feeling about their torso for the scaled skin of the pouch's strap. He follows it down, his hands starting to prickle with pain as they're submerged, and quickly yanks the bag to the surface.

"There's Dust in there, use it."

"B-but,"

"But what?! ...Please don't tell me you don't know how," they watch him, their night vision just able to make out the grayness his face. "...Nature's grace."

"W-well what about your semblance?"

"That would put this monster _and_ you _inside_ of me! We'd die anyway!" Billy groans, jaw tight as they resist the natural clench of the muscles surrounding them.

"Then tell me what to do."

"It's the paint, put it on."

Jaune has to fish through the bag, cringing at some of the contents having been nearly liquified, reduced to sludge. He finally feels something round and solid in his grip, pulling it out. His fingers fumble around the firm, round object in an attempt to open it. When it does come apart he dips his fingers in, completely unaware as to how much is too much or even what the affinity of the Dust is as he smudges it on his cheek. For all he knew, he could be about to blow them to kingdom come. Then again, that had to be a sight better than being slowly digested.

"Now what?"

"Hold on to me." Billy waits, giving one hard, upward press with their shoulders until they feel the human put his arms around their waist. "Your semblance, it pushes outward, doesn't it?"

"I...yes, I guess."

"You _guess_?"

"I'm not really good at using it, it's hit and miss at best."

"How in the hell did you survive this long?!" they half-buckle at the waist as the creature's muscles push down again. "It doesn't matter, just... _try_!"

Jaune swallows. _Of all the things I could screw up,_ please _don't let this be one of them._

 

The massive Grimm stalks the waters off of Vale's northern coast, its body moving back and forth to smoothly propel it beneath the surface. Its deep, throaty groans and rumbles telegraph the sort of heartburn it feels, a pain only so noticeable to it. But then the pain pitches, its body scrunching with a great cloud of black ink billowing out of its mouth. The rumbles amplify to roars as its belly swells, forming a distinct bubble that eventually bursts. Flickers of bright yellow energy arc through the water amid a black cloud that emerges from the now gaping hole. The Grimm starts to sink, its brimstone eyes burning bright for a few seconds before going dark.

Billy and Jaune emerge from the darkness and scramble for the surface, neither of them looking back to see if they were being followed by either the great Grimm or anything lesser it might have spit up. Once above water they make for the nearest shore. Though they're physically tapped by the time they reach solid ground, they help each other to disappear into the thick treeline; it would be too easy for a Nevermore to swoop down out of nowhere and pick them off if there were still any hanging around.

After several solid minutes of something resembling running they stop, they can't go any further because everything hurts and Jaune can't shoulder Billy's weight anymore. He holds on long enough for the faunus to grab hold of the nearest, most stable tree trunk, able to support themselves while he collapses into a bed of moss and clover.

His skin still burns. His eyes feel swollen and his vision is blurred; he can't see it but they're bright red with blown vessels. Every bit of exposed flesh is bright red, raw and tender, and his clothing is full of holes from the acid in the Grimm's stomach. He lifts his head, whimpering at how he can now see his toes breaking through the top of one of his shoes. He can't see his socks through the holes in his jeans. Jaune turns his head, cringing hard at the state of Billy's legs. Bright copper skin is blemished with open sores, the bare soles of their feet livid and bleeding. Their leather breeches are eaten off at the knee but frayed blemishes in the material reach all the way to their waist.

Billy slides onto their backside with the commotion of scraping bark and the snapping of twigs beneath them. "You all right?" they pant.

"Y-yeah, I guess. You?"

"I'll make it, I think." a breathy exhale that sounds like an attempted laugh. "Gods above, it burns,"

"It ate through your aura?"

"I held it up as long as I could." Billy's head goes back and forth against the bark, brow knit and jaw tight. "I'd been in there for a while...since shortly after the ship crashed."

Jaune makes a disgusted noise in his throat. He had only been inside that thing for a few minutes at most, he couldn't imagine any longer than that. He watches the faunus fuss for their pouch, half tearing into it once they have it in their hands. Frustration begins to mask the pain on their face.

"Damn it all." Billy growls, upending the pouch to dump what was left inside. "All my food's ruined. If I can't find something...and with these," they look down at themselves, shaking their head at the wounds up and down their legs, "I won't be able to travel far."

"Maybe I still have something in my backpack." Jaune rolls his shoulders, wincing at the ache in them, and pulls his pack around to his front. It had a few holes in it, but is more wet than damaged. "Even if I don't...I'm sure I can find something. My family and I went camping all the time...how hard could foraging be?"

And for the moment he's confident, until he catches the uncertain worry in Billy's silver eyes.

 

 

Author's Note: This one came a lot easier, I'm happy to say. Next chapter I'll be having some Winter/Weiss family time and -hopefully- some White Rose for all one of you that's been so patiently waiting. And a little Klein cameo because I saw him in episode two and liked him instantly. And, maybe, depending on how it goes, I might introduce you to Jaune's family. Questions and comments are always welcome, and thanks to everyone who reads and reviews. And feel free to check out my tumblr for shits and giggles involving this hot mess of a story at luckyfirerabbit.tumblr.com

 


	13. Chapter Twelve

Weiss sits comfortably on the couch in the den, nursing another cup of coffee as she watches Winter and Specialist Holiday play another round of poker. Not a game she is personally familiar with, but it had to have some margin of entertainment value for her sister to seem to enjoy it so much in spite of losing almost every hand. Weiss feels a little heat in her face when she considers at what point it had stopped being about a card game for them.

"No more," Winter finally concedes, turning her likely pitiful cards face down on the table between them. "My heart can't take it."

"Making jokes?" Weiss half smiles. "You're bouncing back faster than I thought."

"What can I say, I'm a compulsive overachiever."

" _That_ certainly runs in the family." Her smile widens a little with a small laugh, warmth blossoming in her as Winter almost mimics her own reaction. "Which reminds me, I never asked you how your recovery is going."

"That's because I didn't ask you to join me to talk about _me_ ," Winter eases back into the sofa, tucking her legs. "Daisy, would you mind letting my sister and I have the room for a while?"

"Yes, ma'am." The specialist stands up with a curt nod, pushing the creases out of her uniform, "I won't be far, but you won't even know I'm there."

"Thank you."

Weiss watches her leave before setting her now empty cup on the coffee table, enjoying the absence of an unconsciously perceived third wheel. "She's pretty."

"Gorgeous." And just after the word leaves Winter's mouth her head snaps to the side, to look at her sister. Her cheeks are a little pink as they just look at each other.

"Is she any relation to Dakota Holiday?" Weiss continues, trying not to look as clever as she felt.

"Oh yes," Winter clears her throat as quietly as possible, "that's her father. How do you know him?"

"We were in Sanctum the last few days. I heard of him, though I wasn't personally introduced...actually I don't think I even actually _saw_ him."

"I've heard nothing but good things about him." Winter inches her shoulders. "Did your trip to Sanctum yield anything valuable?"

"Mostly information,"

"In that case I thought you would seem more pleased."

"Well," Weiss' gaze breaks away briefly, her hands fussing in her lap, "we lost two off Vale's coast. An officer died also."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Winter nods once the words sink in. "Ironwood didn't mention any attack,"

 _Sounds like him._ "Likely he didn't want to stress you. I'm sure he's as eager to have you back on duty as anyone."

"I suppose."

"How soon, by the way?"

"Again, this isn't about me. But since you asked, the doctor says I'm looking at two more months of rehab. Otherwise I'm coming along as expected."

"Good." Weiss feels comfort easing over her, as if sitting here with Winter hadn't been enough to convince her that she would be all right.

"And you?"

"Hm?"

"How are you doing? I know these last few months have been...exceptionally difficult."

"Oh." she takes a breath, clears her throat gently, her eyes dropping into her lap. "I'm doing my best. The best I know how."

A puff of air leaves Winter. "I certainly hope you don't expect me to accept that little of an answer."

Weiss looks up, features stretching, speechless.

"You're barely eighteen and you've inherited a company that could easily be its own kingdom. Father passes away, and only after years of browbeating you into the heir he needed. On the same day you're almost killed and I'm hospitalized. And, to seemingly top it all off...I made you shoulder _another_ responsibility that should have been mine."

Still Weiss has no words, her mind rather slow in processing all of that.

"With that being said, I suppose this is meant to be a lot less about small talk and more about me apologizing."

"Apologize? Winter," she sputters, "what happened after the funeral...none of that...you had no control over that."

"No, I didn't, but," Winter takes a breath, her usually stalwart composure momentarily faltering. "There's a great deal that I could have done differently."

"I don't understand."

Winter won't respond right away, shifting in her seat, appearing momentarily uncomfortable. Finally she exhales, one arm propped across the top of the sofa. "I've often wondered if my joining the military was the most selfish thing I've ever done."

"Selfish? How could you think that?"

"Surely you've realized why I did it." a little smirk upturns to corner of the elder Schnee's mouth.

"Well," perhaps she tries to answer too quickly, the rest of the words dissolving in her mouth. She hadn't given Winter's reasons much thought, just accepted them. "I mean...I've guessed. You didn't want to take over the company."

"Of course I didn't, but it wasn't just because I felt woefully unsuited to the profession -because I did. As much as I tend to excel at anything I pick up, corporate gymnastics isn't one of those things." she half laughs, in spite of whatever she was feeling that is clearly anything other than amusement. "Father threatened to cut me off if I enlisted, and that's precisely what I wanted. The hardest part of making that decision was the uncertainty brought on by change; I wasn't concerned with going without father's money, I would have my own, and if I did well enough I would be able to comfortably retire. I wouldn't need him. And...I didn't do it solely to have my inheritance fall on you, Weiss, but I know that result should have weighed more heavily on me than it did. I'm sorry."

Weiss' quiet surprise wilts into something soft, something sympathetic. "You think I don't understand? How could I possibly blame you for wanting your own life?"

"Even though you can't?"

She gently lilts her head in acceptance of the circumstances as they are. "It is what it is. I can't hold you responsible for something I likely would have done had I been in your shoes. Just because you're the eldest doesn't mean you have to sacrifice _everything_ , it doesn't mean you don't deserve to be happy."

Winter almost feels guilty for the comfort she feels at Weiss' understanding. Of all the things her affluent upbringing had given her, she felt entitled to a royal dressing down for using her little sister as a scapegoat. Then again, she always had a sinking suspicion that Weiss always looked at her with a sort of something akin to hero-worship. But her grace wasn't birthed from a fawning idealization, its source is the simple fact that her little sister is wise beyond her years, a rare blessing offered to those forced to grow up too fast.

"And to be completely honest, the company is one of the last things on my mind lately. I haven't even looked at my scroll since I've been home."

"I don't blame you. If the board of directors is treating you at all like they did father,"

"Not yet, but I think that's mostly because I'm still 'just a kid'." she even went so far as to make air quotes with her fingers. "They won't start the real harassment until my twenty-first comes calling." She has controlling interest, but she isn't able to do much with it for another three years. For the time being she's little more than glorified window dressing.

"I'm sure you can handle it." Winter offers an assuring smile. An expression which breaks up into something unreadable. "How,"

Weiss' brows lift, waiting for her to find the words she's looking for.

"What about the," Winter's bottom lip tucks between her teeth. Finally she just shrugs, choosing to say it like it is. "How are you handling your new powers?"

"Ah." Weiss nods. In a way she can understand the awkward subject transition. How was one supposed to talk about this, really? "I'm learning more all the time." She thought it best to leave out the part where she turned her partner into an animal. "Tag has been a good teacher."

"Who?"

"Oh, she's the faunus that's with us."

"I see." Winter tries not to smirk, remembering the copper skinned woman, her tail, and thinking her father must be rolling over in his grave. "Did you meet her in Sanctum?"

Weiss nods. "She's an incredible fighter and she doesn't use metal in _any_ of her gear. Can you believe it?" she almost giggles at the shock that flickers across her sister's face.

"So I'm to assume she's...like you?"

"She inherited her powers from her mother." Weiss nods. "Do you know how you got them?"

Winter pauses, perhaps thinking, perhaps the question having taken her by surprise. It only takes a moment for her to shake her head. "I just assumed I was born that way. I can't recall ever having experienced what you described to me." In reality, her only certainty in regards to the Maiden powers had been that she kept them secret from anyone and everyone. She looks at Weiss with a strange mixture of wonder and perhaps guarded fear. "I can't begin to imagine what it must be like for you."

Weiss smiles after a moment, perhaps in spite of herself, throwing on that sophisticated, seemingly better-than-you air. "It's not as bad as you think, to me it's just one more responsibility. You could even say I'm used to it." And out of some strange habit her mind starts to file through the weight she has been carrying around like an itemized financial report, forcing herself to wonder how on earth she has managed to put up with it all. She would certainly like to think it had more to do with her character than just her youthful endurance.

Her thoughts are disturbed by Winter's long exhale, and she meets her sister's eyes.

"Things are so much bigger than what happened at Beacon, aren't they?"

Weiss' lips thin, her brow lowering. "Certainly seems that way." And she isn't about to cite all the reasons why Winter is so right. Winter didn't need that kind of worry.

"I worry about you."

So much for that. "I know." is all Weiss can say.

"You shouldn't have to do all this...you're still so young."

A little huff of air. "Do you believe in destiny?"

"I don't know what I believe." Winter shakes her head. Then her face scrunches, looking hurt. "Come here."

Though her face shows obvious confusion, Weiss obeys, standing up and moving down the length of the couch to sit closer to Winter. Once she sits down her sister moves in, arms open to circle around her and pull her in. At first there's a reflexive resistance, an unconscious reaction to physical contact she isn't ready to receive. It passes with a breath, her body relaxing and moving to reciprocate. She hadn't realized how badly she needed this; how desperately she needed arms around her, needed to feel safe and protected. For a brief second her well crafted persona of poise and composure wavers, vulnerability making her heart clench. But it's all right, there's no threat here.

"I take it back." Winter says softly. "I get the feeling I should have said this a lot sooner," because she knows damn good and well their father never did -though he certainly should have, "but I believe in you."

Weiss swallows. "Winter,"

"You're already such an amazing and strong young woman. You make me _so_ proud, Weiss, you really do."

Oh what Weiss would give to disappear into this feeling. For a second or two part of her wishes she could just give it all up and stay here, be just like this for the rest of her life. Her grip on Winter's neck and shoulders tightens and her eyes burn a little. She hopes the onset of tears isn't visible when they separate, at least until she catches a glimpse of the gentle redness in her sister's eyes.

"I promise I'm going to do better. To be here for you."

"Winter," Weiss tries again, straightening. Initially she wants to tell Winter that everything is fine, that she doesn't need to worry herself like this. But then she fully comprehends the look on her older sister's face; it's made of the quiet, desperate horror of someone who had come within a breath of leaving the only person they loved behind, and having to accept that even now, they're not free of danger.

All she can think to say then is "Thank you."

And for a moment, as they offer up passing, loving glances all the while they try and compose themselves, they share a similar thought: maybe their father's passing had done more good than harm.

 

The remainder of the day is divvied up between pointless conversation, poorly one-sided poker games and late afternoon naps until dinner is served in the evening. Most of them make it down to the ridiculously large dinning room and find a seat at the equally outlandish sized table; Ren looks so exhausted, but has enough gumption to tell them that Nora is sleeping. Yang offers up a similar statement in regards to Ruby when she arrives, her hand scratching her scalp through the mess of blonde curls busheling around her face, making her look almost like a sheep-dog as the tresses cover her eyes.

"I knocked and she didn't answer, figure it's best to let her sleep if that's what she's doing." Yang tosses her head back, her hair going with it and out of her face. She eyes an empty seat with noticeable interest as she rounds the table and slides into it, "Hey there, big sister," and she pushes with one leg to scoot the chair a little closer to the person situated next to her. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm a big sister, too."

Weiss is across the table, hands hovering as she freezes in the middle of putting the napkin in her lap. Mortification steadily stretches her features, jaw hanging a little. She damn near swallows her tongue when Yang passes her a silent, knowing wink and a waggle of her eyebrows.

Winter chuckles, her hands smoothing over her lap. "We've never been properly introduced, though I've read your file before."

"Ooh, I have a file? Did it have all my measurements in it, or would you like to go over those personally?"

Weiss chokes on nothing, her face so red one would think she was bleeding through her pores. She honestly weighs the idea of pulling the napkin over her head so no one can see her.

"With all due respect, as fun as that would be," Winter looks Yang over from top to bottom, still grinning comfortably, "I don't make a habit of flirting with someone in their underwear."

Yang is wearing what she affectionately refers to as spanky pants along with her _Haute Mess_ tank top. Not entirely underwear, but hardly dinner wear either. "Would it be better if I were out of them? Come on, we can compare scars."

Now Weiss is praying the chair would break right out from under her so she could disappear beneath the table.

"Miss Xiaolong, please," Winter straightens her back and levels her chin, still smiling, "...mine's bigger."

Yang tips her head back, pressing against the back of the chair with a gut-deep laugh. The hardest laugh she has released in a while. "Oh my god," her cheeks have started reddening, "nice to see _one_ of you has a sense of humor."

"I have a sense of humor." Weiss almost whimpers, sounding pitiful.

"Please, menstrual cramps are funnier than you."

"Well _that_ doesn't sound like good dinner conversation."

Yang twists in her seat to look behind her. "Hey, Otter-mom. Thought you got lost,"

Tag smiles as she steps into the dinning room, taking Yang up on a soft high-five as she passes her chair. She's wearing a plush looking sweatshirt and matching pants, though they're backwards so she can tie the drawstring around the base of her tail to keep them from falling down -she didn't want to cut a hole in them and potentially offend her hosts. Her cheeks, though washed clean of the scarlet paint, flush a little at the affectionate nickname. "I did, actually, you could fit a whole village in this place. Not that I'm ungrateful for being allowed to stay," She takes the empty seat beside Ren, cupping his shoulder before he can doze too far off and fall in his plate.

"You're all welcome to stay here as long as you need," Winter returns, "it's the least I can offer for helping my sister."

Tag smiles, navigating her way into the chair around her tail. "Miss Weiss is an exceptional fighter, but even one as talented as she is couldn't take that many Grimm on their own."

Finally the embarrassment has left the younger Schnee's face and is replaced with a meek smile.

"Indeed? Would you be willing to tell me what happened, exactly? I'm afraid Weiss was woefully vague about the whole ordeal."

"I didn't want to stress you out."

"Come now, have a little pride," the faunus nudges Weiss' arm with the back of her hand, "I'd imagine riding a whale isn't a common skill."

"A _whale_?"

Weiss sputters through an uneasy laugh as she comprehends Winter's reaction. "F-funny story."

"Yes, a funny story I expect to hear _in full_ before this meal is over."

Another uncomfortable vibration of a laugh, and Weiss swallows as she worries her bottom lip with her teeth. She tries again to tell the story of their morning skirmish with Grimm, going into only marginally more detail than the first time -she makes an honest attempt at trying to leave out the parts where she could have easily died. Although Tag is more than happy to fill those spaces in for her. All the while Winter's expression remains neutral, though Weiss knows there's something there, can sense it, worry and relief oddly mixed together like unsuitable dance partners. But there's pride in her too, a little blossom of warmth the little sister can feel in her chest that makes her mouth turn slightly upward as she talks.

The meal ends when Ren finally loses his fight with sleep and slumps in his chair, head tipped back and eyes shut. Tag offers to take him to bed, Yang just as quick to help her. They each take an arm and walk him out of the dinning room.

"He lost his team leader this morning." Weiss exhales softly.

Winter nods as she stands up, folding her napkin once before laying it across her empty plate. "I can imagine how difficult that is. There was someone else, wasn't there?"

"Tag's Guardian, Billy."

"No, I mean your friend's team. They lost another member, didn't they?"

"Oh." Weiss pushes her chair back with a screech of wooden chair legs on marble tile. "Yes. Almost a year ago, Pyrrha Nikos." _Good god, almost a year._

"Ah yes, I remember hearing about that on the news. Tragic."

And though it hadn't sounded very sincere, Weiss knew she meant it.

"And where's _your_ team leader? I didn't see her at dinner. In fact I don't think anyone has seen her since you arrived."

"Yang said she was likely sleeping....I should check on her."

Winter nods. "You should take her something to eat as well, it may do her some good."

"You're right." she finally stands up, covering her soiled plate with her napkin like her sister had. Both sisters start moving towards the head of the table. "Are you retiring for the night?"

"I am. My rehab starts tomorrow."

"Ah, all right. Perhaps we could have breakfast together?"

Winter smiles as the meet at the head of the table, facing each other. "That arrangement sounds acceptable. Feel free to bring you friends as well."

"Not likely. _None_ of them can manage to get up as early as I do." she laughs softly, only a little smug. "Goodnight, Winter."

"Goodnight."

They share a more than brief embrace and Weiss watches her sister leave the room. She lingers only a moment before turning on her heels and heading off to the kitchen to make a few requests of the staff before they left for the night.

Within the hour she was heading back to the second floor, to the corridor lined with guestrooms as well as her own bedroom, Klein in tow pushing a small metal cart with a pair of covered dishes resting on top of it. They stopped in front of Ruby's door, Weiss giving him leave to tend to his other duties that she might handle the remainder of this task herself. The butler just smirked beneath his mustache and dipped his chin in compliance.

Weiss thought she was alone in the hallway as she reaches for the doorknob, which would explain the small jump that rattles her frame when she hears her name. Her head cuts to the side, long white hair tossing. "Oh, Tag,"

"Didn't mean to startle you, but," the faunus pauses, eyes moving over the human as well as the cart beside her. "...You're busy?"

"Ah, well, I'm,"

"If you are, it's all right."

"I...I just wanted to check on Ruby."

Tag nods, understanding softening the previous look of curiosity on her face. "Very well, it can wait."

"What is it?"

"I just wanted to talk to you about this morning, you know, as _Maidens_."

"Oh, well,"

"No," Tag puts up a dismissive hand and repeats "it can wait. There's nothing to be done about any of it now anyhow, so please, see to your partner. I'm sure she needs you."

The way Tag's posture diminishes doesn't go unnoticed, Weiss' brows pulling at little. "Are you all right?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, mostly."

"What is it?"

"Nothing terrible, just," Tag pushes a hand through her hair, leaning to prop her shoulder on the wall. "...this is the farthest apart Billy and I have ever been apart...the longest we've gone without seeing each other."

Weiss nods, but the curiosity doesn't leave her expression. "I've been meaning to ask about that; you've been exceptionally calm this entire time. Aren't you worried?"

"Of course I'm worried." a little laugh. "I mean, that shot they gave me kind of...helped I guess, but I'm certainly worried. Still, I know Billy's alive."

"How?"

"My mark is still on them." Tag takes her wrist in her hand, the pad of her thumb habitually beginning to work in circles against her skin. "If they were dead it would disappear, I would know, but that doesn't really ease the loneliness. We otters tend to be starved for attention," In reality, she feels thoroughly isolated on a physical level, something she can't begin to know how to process. She's never even slept alone, not once in her forty years of life. "I'm just trying to adjust."

"C-can I do...?"

"Oh, no, it's fine. I'll be all right I think. Just talking about it I feel a bit better." she straightens, her tail swishing to keep her balanced. "But I won't keep you any longer."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Now see to your partner." Tag takes a few steps back, towards her open door and offering up a soft "goodnight" before disappearing behind it.

Part of Weiss wants to worry, but the bigger part of her assures her it can wait until tomorrow. Just as Tag said, for the morning.

Weiss tries a soft knock on the door with her knuckle. No answer. Then a slightly harder tap joined with Ruby's name. Still no answer. She chances the handle, finding the door unlocked and lets herself in.

The spacious room within is mostly dark, the meager shadows cast through the window being from the light pollution of the city outside. The latticework of frames fall across the floor, distorted, just shy of reaching the bed. There's enough light for Weiss to make out the stationary lump on the bed, finding it dimly red once her eyes adjust. The knee-jerk urge to scold her for sleeping in her clothes works briefly through her mind, and is silenced just as quickly.

Weiss carefully, quietly, crosses the floor with the small cart, situating it at the foot of the bed once she's close enough. A mixture of relief and wariness bubbles through her when she can't make out the pulsing repulsion of Ruby's aura from earlier. Perhaps she actually was asleep, maybe there's a chance she hasn't been in here for the sole purpose of shouldering whatever pain she might be feeling all alone.

"Ruby?" she chances carefully, walking along the side of the bed. "Ruby? I've brought you something to eat,"

Then it's there, the bristling of Ruby's aura that Weiss almost confuses for the plushness of a wolf's fur against her skin. Weiss watches her though she doesn't move, making out the slight quickening of her partner's breathing as consciousness rolls back in. Weiss leans to one side, trying to peer beneath the dark shelter of her hood, to meet her eyes or see if they're even open.

"I brought cookies too."

There's a pulse through the connection of their auras, a flicker of interest. Weiss chances to sit on the edge of the mattress, not too close or too far away. Then she reaches out, meaning to just touch Ruby's ankle -the part of her that's closest- only to have the limb draw back with a sharp snap of motion.

"Ruby, please, you need to eat." Weiss grimaces at the ruffled but obviously defiant reply she receives while she watches Ruby tug her hood that much further down. "You've been in here all day."

Another grumble.

Weiss scowls a little deeper, though it morphs to accommodate a somewhat mischievous grin. "Well, since I've _had_ my dinner, I suppose I'll just have to eat these cookies myself." Though a part of her hopes she won't have to follow through with the threat. Her waistline is already starting to panic as Weiss stands up, moving to the cart and taking the cover off of one of the platters. The thin metal lid taps the edge of the ceramic plate, chiming cleanly, coinciding with the red heap beginning to stir. Weiss pauses, watching, smiling just a little more when she realizes Ruby isn't actually in her travel clothes but had simply put her cape on over a set of satin pajamas. Ruby rubs her hands over her face, finally pushing the hood back to uncover her now messy hair. She yawns and scratches her head.

"Are they chocolate?" her voice is dry, half broken.

Weiss nods. "But you should eat your dinner before," but she doubles back when Ruby moves to try and pull her hood up again. "I suppose dessert first won't be so bad. Just this once."

She quickly gathers up enough of the little treats to fill both hands and rounds the bed again, settling once more on the edge of the mattress but this time much closer to Ruby. She offers one hand, quietly anxious until her partner responds. Weiss waits, wordless, giving Ruby a chance to eat at least one before trying at any sort of conversation, though with the way Ruby take such big bites, she doesn't have to wait that long.

"I'm sorry, Ruby." Weiss begins, awkward, hands fussing a little around the treats nestled in her palms. "I didn't mean for the magic to do that to you...the wolf thing."

"It's okay." she replies neutrally, a small swallow following. Although, to be entirely honest, Ruby wasn't too sure if it's okay or not. The entire experience is still surreal to her, dreamlike, something that could be explained away too easily. When the magic first wore off she hadn't really noticed it; everything was still honed to a fine edge of tooth and claw and all she could focus on was the almost primitive urge to kill Grimm and defend the Maiden. The later half of their engagement over the sea is almost blank even now, like she hadn't actually been there, and it hadn't been until the lupine haze left her that she realized what had happened. Accepted that it was all real.

So maybe _okay_ wasn't quite the right response, but what else could she say?

"You're still learning to control it." Ruby adds.

"I know, but I panicked. I shouldn't have panicked." Because Schnees don't panic, they hire people to do that for them. "I could have gotten you hurt, or worse."

"I'm all right." she assures her before shoving another cookie in her now empty mouth. "I should be asking you, I know you were on the ship when it went down."

" _That_ was easily the least stressful thing we dealt with today." a small, almost artificial laugh works its way up from her chest. "Otherwise, you did a splendid job of protecting me."

"Hmph," Ruby chuffs. "At least I can do _something_ right."

Weiss feels herself stiffen, whatever light happiness had been visible on her face evaporates. Her expression stretches, eyes set a little wide and worried. For a moment she can't speak and Ruby won't lift her eyes, giving Weiss absolutely no clues as to what that could have possibly meant. Not that the heiress didn't have her own theories. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, setting aside what remained of her ration of cookies and shifting in place, angling herself to face Ruby.

But before her mouth can form the first word, Ruby cuts her off with a quick "Don't."

Weiss' jaw hangs.

"I think I know what you're going to say...and I don't really want to hear it." Ruby doesn't sound angry, hurt, defensive; she just sounds tired. Thin.

"Well...what do you think I mean to say?"

"That it'll be okay. That we'll get through this...whatever this is." she inches her shoulders.

It's true. Weiss has been making a conscious effort to be more supportive, to help where she can because she knows she's able. With the powers of a Maiden came a new sense of obligation to the people she cared about; so it seems only natural that she would do her best to encourage Ruby.

"All right then," Weiss concedes, "so what would you rather hear?"

Ruby inhales and exhales, her brow knitting as she chews and swallows the last bit. She then pulls her knees up, tucking herself together as tightly as possible. "That this is all a bad dream and I'm going to wake up."

Weiss feels her heart clench. _God_ what she would give to be able to tell Ruby that and mean it. "I'm not going to lie to you."

"I know."

For a moment the words cease, all the while Weiss holds out hope that Ruby will look at her. She doesn't. In fact she seems to retreat further, both hands covering her face. Sympathetic but undeterred, Weiss scoots up the bed, maneuvering around to sit not-too-closely beside her partner. And she remains quiet, hoping Ruby will take it as an invitation to speak once she's ready.

Eventually, after a series of quiet and even breaths, Ruby lowers her hands. "How long..."

"Hm?" Weiss almost didn't hear.

"How long?" Ruby repeats, her head lifting and holding steady for a second before easing back against the headboard. "How long until I have to watch someone else die?"

The only thing more unsettling than her question is her tone; strangely honest yet simultaneously apathetic, but still so _hurt_.

"Am I just bad luck or something?" Finally Ruby turns her head, though her tired, reddened eyes don't so much focus on Weiss as they focus _around_ her. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Ruby," Weiss tries once she remembers how to articulate words again. "You...we can't..." Oh god, what is she supposed to say?

Ruby takes a deep breath, her exhale unsteady and audibly shaking. "Three people died in one day, and I watched it happen, you know? I was right there...and I couldn't do anything. First it was Penny."

Weiss feels her heart clench, her entire ribcage tugging inward. Everyone had seen what happened to Penny, but only a few felt the same disjointed horror over watching her being dismembered and deactivated.

"I tried to stop it. I _tried_ ," her throat tightens in the middle of the last word, a squeak working out as her body tenses. "Just like I tried to stop...C-Cinder...w-when she," the rest of the words die and are buried under an onset of fresh tears that just catch the dim light from the window. Her eyes drift away, to something in front of her, but she doesn't see it. She sees Beacon, she sees the fractured apex of the academy's tower, and she sees a scattering of golden dust. Her face falls to her knees, her hands hooking in the sides of her head, and a broken sob wracks her frame. The first of many.

Weiss knows she shouldn't, but she feels an almost inappropriate relief wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, Ruby is finally letting go of all this guilt she's been holding onto. Maybe, _just maybe_ , it'll all come out and she'll try to face it.

"And now Jaune," Ruby groans pitifully, the pain in her voice muffled by her own crumpled posture. "How many more... _how many more_?" And it just keeps echoing in her head: how long, and how many more? How long until everyone is gone?

"Ruby," Weiss is starting to feel her own eyes burn with tears, her heart jerking in her chest with an indescribable pain.

"Why keep fighting when I just. Keep. _Losing_?" Ruby lifts her head and wipes her eyes on her forearm.

Weiss thinks to say something, to offer a few words to maybe salve the ache, but they won't form. For a moment she's paralyzed.

"Who's next?" and it sounds like an honest, dead to rights question. One that she's begging to have an answer for. "Is it Yang? Am I going to have to watch her die too? What about Blake? Maybe she's already dead and we don't even know it!"

"Ruby, don't say that,"

She tucks her face to her knees again, a new series of staggering cries erupting.

Weiss' thoughts scatter. Should she just let it work itself out? Be passive? How in the hell could she do that in good conscience? She swallows, finding her mouth terribly dry as she tries, hoping against some unclear hope, to reach out. One arm stretches across Ruby's back, Weiss' fingers just coming in contact with her shoulder before Ruby reacts, recoiling hard enough to pull her over the edge of the bed and onto the floor, flat on her back with her feet sticking up almost absurdly in the air.

Before Weiss can join her on the floor Ruby is on her hands and knees, trying to stand up again but seemingly unable, suddenly stricken lame.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm going to lose you too," Ruby sputters, tears falling from the tip of her nose. "...But I can't. I _can't_. If...if I...you..." poor girl can't even finish. She collapses to the hardwood floor, face hidden between her hands, prostrate before the furious riptide turning her insides into knots.

Weiss kneels beside her, feeling helplessness creeping up on her again. Her jaw clenches and she forces it back. She tries one more time, refusing to accept Ruby's resistance when her arms work around her shoulders again. Her partner tenses, balls up as if Weiss' touch is painful, but it all falls apart once she's tucked under Weiss' arm, her heated forehead pressed into the crook of her neck. And Weiss just waits. Lets her cry, lets the bloodletting happen as it should, absorbing the hard tremors and shudders of her heavy sobs all the while gently stroking her hair with one hand and clutching a fistful of her cape with the other. She knows Ruby needs this, knows she's needed to do this for _months_ , and she knows there's nothing she can do until it's over.

Crying never solved anything, but Ruby can't help herself. She can't hold it in anymore, it's just too damn much to keep swallowing down. The guilt, the grief, the fear, it just kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger until now when she feels like all those things are working together to turn her inside out. Things that tear her out of a dead sleep, make her quietly dread the stillness of the night, and leave her all but screaming. Things that she feels in the marrow of her bones, so deep there's no hope of ever digging them out. Not that she doesn't try.

When the purge finally ends, when the tears cease and all she's left with is the body-wide throbbing, Ruby is boneless in Weiss' embrace. The heiress loosens her hold just enough to let Ruby shift from her knees to her backside, and stays close so she can put her back to Weiss' chest. Ruby sniffles, eyes closed as now even the light from the window is too much, and she has to consciously force herself to breathe easier. Her strength is gone, she feels empty and somewhat numb. Like a paper bag full of air that's just been popped. Not better, not worse, just...here.

Weiss continues to hold her, quietly relieved as she gently pushes her bangs from her sweat dappled forehead. The worst is over for now. Her first thought is to ask Ruby if she's okay, but she already knows the answer to that. Just because the tears have dried up doesn't mean the pain has, and regrouping from this would take time. Whatever encouragement there is to give can wait for the morning, when they're both rested and strong enough to deal with it.

"Ruby?"

All she receives is a croaking groan of acknowledgment.

"Can I help you back to bed?"

Another groan as she tries to sit up, a little push on her back helping her succeed. Weiss eases into a crouch, offering her hand, glad when Ruby accepts.

"Would you stay?" comes Ruby's broken half-whisper. "I...I don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course."

"I mean," she pauses, turning to face the bed and propping herself on the edge as the fatigue washes over her, "I know you'd rather be in your own bed,"

"Hush. I've already agreed to stay."

"Okay."

"...Do you really need to sleep in your cape?"

"I lost my pajamas when the ship went down." Ruby inches her shoulders as she pulls down the blankets and crawls underneath them.

"Well, depending on how tomorrow goes, I'll take you to buy some new ones." Weiss offers effortlessly as she moves to the other side of the bed, mimicking Ruby's actions.

"You don't have to,"

"I want to."

Ruby lets it be, knowing she isn't going to change her partner's mind. Feeling like her body weighs two tons too much she flops onto the mattress on her side, the pillow puffing up around her face as her head crashes down. She blindly searches with splayed toes for the blanket, gripping the edge and pulling it close enough for her hands to reach and raise it the rest of the way to drape her shoulders. Through tired, fuzzy vision she watches Weiss situate beside her, propping herself into a half sitting position on the other set of pillows. When it seems like she's settled in, Ruby inches a little closer, close enough to -more or less- hug her partner about the waist and rest her head on her chest.

Weiss just accepts it with a soft shrug, taking a moment to look down at her, to take her in. A little smile turns the corner of her mouth as she notices the welcoming warmth of Ruby's aura against her own. As her partner drifts closer to sleep, the warmth pitches and steadily pulses, like a heartbeat. Knowing she's more relaxed brings Weiss her own comfort, and with it a stray thought.

_Maybe I'm in love with you after all._

And somehow that idea -the acceptance of it- brought about the same thrill and terror as one might earn by pinning a hundred Lien note to their ass and strolling through the bad part of town in the middle of the night.

 

 

 

Author's Note: So yeah, not quite the WhiteRose I'm sure all one of you were hoping for, but it's more than nothing, right? I'm all about slow and steady so, you know, this isn't the end, but don't get your hopes up for anything serious right out of the gate. They're still kids after all. Next chapter I'm going to try to at least introduce some of Jaune's family as well as get more into Yang and her issues, but -as before- it depends on how it all physically comes out. I try to keep these chapters around ten pages, so yeah, we'll see. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews, you guys rock. I need all the encouragement I can get. And the kudos rock too. Check me out on DA as well as Tumblr for illustrations and other fic-related nonsense.

 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

The forest is growing still with the diminishing night, crickets quietening their song and nocturnal creatures returning to their dens. The air is heavy, wet, almost bitterly cool as the days have waned closer to the start of winter. The stars above are fading as the sky begins washing from black to gray.

Jaune rubs his eyes again. His vision has finally cleared but there's still noticeable pain. Even the blow he took to the back of the head when he fell has healed and been forgotten, but something as simple as blinking reminds him how tender his eyes are. It likely hasn't helped matters that he hasn't slept, having spent the entire night on watch, staring into the passable light of the campfire while Billy sleeps, their slumber so deep it almost worries him. Jaune had been able to find a few rations in his bag, but it was hardly enough to do more than keep the faunus from passing out. Half the night he ventured only so far out into the forest to look for anything else, knowing Billy was willing to eat almost anything -they had confessed as much. Raised in the jungles of Menagerie, Jaune could only imagine what a common meal had been like for them. What little he had managed to forage he gathered into a pile near where Billy lay, expecting them to find it and hopefully be able to eat once they woke up.

Not that he could sleep himself. Never mind the unsettling images from earlier that day, but the stillness of the forest bothers him. This far from other people, in the middle of the night, he should have found some traces of Grimm. But there's nothing, and he _looked_ , made a conscious effort to seek out any evidence while the sun was still up after he had done what he could for the blisters on Billy's legs. And throughout the night he had listened, filtering through the chirping crickets and rustling of smaller animals through the thickets, thinking he could at least hear a step too heavy or the rustle of feathers out of place. If he _had_ found it in him to sleep, he could have done so without disruption.

Instead he sits awake, senses bristling at anything and everything as he waits for his hoodie to dry out like the rest of his clothes took half the day to do. He sits, perched on a fallen log with his backpack between his ankles and Pyrrha's coronet in his hands. His brow pulls tight, eyes thinning with hurt as he looks down. It's bent now. Thankfully none of the acid in that giant Grimm's stomach got to it, but his fall from the airship and the subsequent impact must have been enough to force the bronze out of shape. But it's otherwise intact; a stray thought lets him entertain the idea of repairs. Maybe, who knows?

Somehow it's easier for him to look at it now, he can't explain it. The sight of it doesn't threaten to pull him down like a lodestone on his neck per the usual, pull him down into that claustrophobic space his grief takes him. Sure, it still hurts, still makes his heart clench in a way nothing else ever has or likely ever will, but...there are no words to describe it. It's almost...comforting. Like the shot you know will put you to sleep; it only hurts for a second, then everything comes up roses and you can't even remember your name.

Jaune lifts his head at the rustling of clover and pine needles as Billy shifts and sputters through the tail end of a snore.

Maybe it had something to do with the dream. What if the perversion of his comatose memory had changed something, tainted its sanctity somehow? He feels a disgusted surge of tension roll down his spine as images flicker through his mind as they had off and on throughout the night. He unconsciously dwells on the creature in spite of his effort not to. Jaune rubs his eyes again, unable to banish it from his thoughts. And the longer he thinks about it, the clearer the image becomes.

_It almost made her look like..._

"You're still awake?"

Jaune almost drops the coronet, the token swinging on the hook of one finger as his head snaps up and his thoughts scatter. "Ah-um yeah, I'm up. You okay?"

Billy slowly nods, lifting up on their palms with a stiff grunt to sit straight against the tree they had been using as a pillow. "My blood's still a little thin, but the pain is fading."

Jaune nods. "I have a sister like that, but she needs shots."

"Oh? Here I thought my condition was rare." Billy folds their massive hands over the swell of their stomach. "So were you able to figure out where we are?"

"Yeah." he nods again. "We're not too far from where my family and I have been camping before. I'm not  _too_ familiar with this neck of the woods, but I could probably get us to the nearest town at the very least."

"How far do you think?"

"Twenty miles...maybe a day or two on foot? Depends on how far you can manage."

"I'll be fine." comes a defensive grumble. Billy unfolds their hands, one moving to the opposing wrist, the calloused pad of their thumb working beneath the leather bracer to stroke the mark there. There's an easy pulse of aura, a mixture of their own and their Maiden's, and the pain fades a little further. "Once I've had a little more to eat we should be able to travel easily enough."

"There's some beside you there,"

"Hm?" Billy looks down, finding the meager offering, "Ah, thank you." They scoop most of it up in one hand, a mess of acorns and pine nuts and a few mushrooms, and pick it at with the other. "Any sign of Grimm yet?"

"No."

"Good. Not even the Lion?"

"Not that I know of." Thankfully. "Do you...has anyone ever seen anything like that before?"

"Not as we did, no. Not even the oldest stories speak of such a thing. Still," they pause long enough to take a bite and swallow, "here's hoping we can make some ground before it means to chase us again.  _If_ it does."

Here's hoping it wouldn't, or at the very least would have the courtesy to wait until after the sun came up so they would have a fighting chance.

"Do you suppose they think us dead?"

Jaune feels his brows lift towards his hairline with a spike curiosity. "Maybe. Likely."

"Is there any way to contact them from here?"

"Not while we're in Vale."

"A new kingdom? Hm. Exciting." though they sound the farthest from it. The finish the morsels in their hand, wiping their palms clean and swallowing. "So who were they?"

"Pardon?"

"That's obviously not yours, boy," Billy tucks their chin, eyes looking more so at Jaune's hands than his face. "So whose is it?"

"Hm? Oh," he looks down briefly, his mind realizing he doesn't really need to half way through the motion. For some reason he can't find the answer, so he just looks back at them somewhat stupidly.

"Who did you lose?" they try one more time.

He takes a breath, his exhale morphing into an empty sort of laugh. A glorified puff of air. "How'd you guess?"

"It wasn't difficult." Billy knew he had to be doing all of this for a reason, something stronger than just a hunter's will to destroy Grimm seeing as he didn't possess much of that. "So?"

He took a moment, let the words gather in his mind and then his mouth. "She was my best friend."

"What was her name?"

He hesitates, his tongue between his teeth. When was the last time he had actually said her name? Said it aloud? He remembers back in Sanctum, when he and Ruby talked, when Ruby tried to convince him he still had a place with them on this suicide mission they'd undertaken. He thinks about it now, realizing he had only said it passing, without any of the reverence it deserved. Jaune swallows at the thickness in his throat. "Pyrrha. Her name was Pyrrha."

"Good name. Strong." Billy nods, seeming to understand completely even though he had offered up so little. "Was it Grimm?"

"No." Jaune responds almost too quickly.

"...This Cinder I've heard of?" and when Jaune doesn't answer, only stares at the dirt in front of him, they nod again. "I see now. So it's revenge you want?"

Jaune deflates with another puff of air, taking up the coronet in both hands again to linger on it only a moment longer before putting it away in his bag. "To be honest...I don't think I have it in me."

"And I would agree."

Jaune scowls at them. "But I just...I'm doing it because I know it's what she would want."

"Do you?"

He nods. "She wouldn't want...whatever started at Beacon to spread." At least that's what Jaune had allowed her sacrifice to tell him. He wanted to believe he had been allowed to walk away from the Battle of Beacon for a reason. The reason being to stop Cinder or die trying, regardless of how the latter is much more likely.

"Hm. Noble indeed. Better than vengeance in any case."

"Have you ever lost anyone?" and the question is almost accusatory, daring them to undermine his intentions again.

"I have." comes their quick, neutral response. They read his face from where they sit, read the expectation in the boy's expression. "Elders. Neighbors. And eighteen children. All in one day."

"Eighteen?"

"You could say I was rather popular back home." Billy laughs. Then the sound dies and their expression flattens again. "They came with the mark of the White Fang and the Black Queen, came with their guns and the Lion and its fire...they came to kill us. Our number had been more than a hundred, and by the next morning...hardly thirty."

Shame swamps him as he looks at them, quietly shocked. "I-I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I didn't tell you this to earn your pity, only so you know that I understand. That I know your pain."

"Thank you."

"I'm afraid I just...how does Tag say it..." they suddenly blink their eyes wide, "Nature's grace, I can't think of it. Well, what can I expect at my age? In any case, emotions aren't my strong suit."

"I've noticed." a little smile, an empty one. "Which makes me wonder -not that I mean to be rude- how did you manage as a parent?"

"I didn't." Billy replies simply. "I'm not entirely sure how it is done here or in Mistral, but where I'm from it was my purpose to sire children, not raise them. That was for their mothers to do. Not that I didn't love them. I certainly wanted to." the faunus sputters on a word, whatever they meant to say flickering out of being like a candle flame. "It still hurt me to have to bury them." And they remember how their knees had given out from under them, allowing them to collapse to in a mound of dirt and weeping over a child's body. "I only have one now."

"I bet you miss them."

"Daily...though I don't even know her name." Their chest rises and falls with a sad sigh, their head tipping back against the tree as they look up into the trees, to the steadily brightening sky. "This will likely sound like a stupid question,"

"Hm?"

"Do you miss Pyrrha?"

"Every day." No hesitation.

"Why?"

Though Jaune pauses now, his eyes falling to stare at the fire again, watch the glowing embers rise around it. There are countless reasons. How is he supposed to chose one or just a few? Her memory is so much bigger, the impact she had on his life...limitless. Still, he tries. "She...no one ever believed in me like she did. Most everyone...all they ever saw were my screw-ups. Pyrrha seemed to only see the best in me, and she was the first person to really help me try to be...better."  _To be that person she saw whenever she looked at me._

"I see."

It's quiet a moment, Jaune's ribs expanding and contracting with a breath. "Have you ever had someone come into your life, someone you never expected...and they turn out to be everything you never knew you needed?"

Billy smiles, their mouth cutting wide enough to show their teeth. "Oh yes. I'm very fortunate to say I have."

"Can you imagine them being gone?"

The smile dissolves and their head drops, chin tucking to their chest. "...I can't."

Jaune rubs his eyes again as his thoughts fizzle out and he has nothing else to say about it. He feels confident that his point made it across. "We've only got an hour or two before sunrise. You should try to rest a little longer."

"I'll be fine. Let me stand watch and  _you_ sleep."

And while he knows he won't, knows he'll be too scared to try, he just nods and accepts the suggestion.

 

_(II)_

Weiss expected having to fight to get out of bed this morning. Ruby had been especially clingy all night long, and that had not changed just because the sun had replaced the moon above Atlas. Getting free of her partner's tenacious limbs is more like fighting a hydra: unhook an arm and two legs take its place. Still, with time and patience she manages to liberate herself and start her day, eager to have breakfast with Winter.

She still ignores her scroll, lets it sit heavily in the pocket of her housecoat as she makes her way downstairs after a more succinct execution of her usual morning ritual. A part of her is still loathe to even look at it much less address the likely hundreds of unanswered messages it has waiting for her. Another, larger part of her is still convinced it can wait a little longer. Just a couple more hours of peace before she has to tend to her inheritance. The company won't fall over between now and then, surely.

Weiss isn't put off when she sees Specialist Holiday sitting beside Winter at the table, though she's only been back for not even a day she's mostly accustomed to her being there. Accustomed enough to have a little fun. She goes into her own version of  _the talk_ , going so far as to put on the most serious, sincere tone she can, all the while watching her sister squirm. Weiss' composure is spot on as Winter and Daisy try not to laugh themselves sick. And what little control the pair has simply disintegrates when she throws in "I expect you to use protection" for good measure. Weiss just smiles smugly, briefly wondering how long it had been since someone laughed like that in this house.

By nine o'clock Weiss is the only Schnee in the manor, Winter having left for her rehab session at the hospital. On her way back up the staircase, intent on finally changing out of her pajamas, a too-well ingrained habit overwhelms her supposed better judgment as she steals her scroll from her pocket. She mentally curses herself when she realizes what she's doing, blaming the misstep on the early morning haze. Sure enough she has nearly fifty messages waiting to be viewed, easily a million less than she expected. Let's see...board of directors, board or directors, junk mail, junk mail, -most of it is junk mail, actually- board...oh, Yang's surgeon...and General Ironwood. As she reaches the second floor landing her thumb makes practiced strokes across the screen to separate the spam from everything else.

Once in her own room again Weiss will listen to the token voice mails as she brushes her hair to gather it up in the usual off-center ponytail, propping the scroll on the bathroom sink so her hands can be free. General Ironwood's voice echoes all around her as she takes a moment to study her ear, the one the bullet had torn through. Not much evidence of it now. Thankfully. The distraction makes her miss more than half the message, so she shoulders the burden of playing it a second time. It's a request that she accompany Captain Erikson to visit the family of the officer who died. Weiss sets a reminder for an hour from now, meaning to return the call then.

Next she listens to the message from Dr. Arcane -more so her assistant, nodding to herself through it as it's merely a confirmation for Yang's upcoming consultation. When it's over she sets another reminder.

She'll skip the last few messages. They're from the board and the board can wait a little longer.

Once she feels perfectly presentable Weiss moves back out into the corridor, scroll tucked away for now, and makes for Tag's room. The door is open just wide enough to squeeze through, but Weiss isn't about to be so rude as to enter unannounced. She gently knocks and waits, eventually receiving an answer.

For a moment she stands in the doorway, her morning greeting suspended as she takes in the sight of the bed. All the blankets -and likely a few more- are piled up in the middle of the mattress with a well pressed out in the middle. It's reminiscent of a bird's nest, complete with fluffy white pillows propped against the rim of the soft well like eggs. Tag is sitting up in the middle of it, pushing a hand through her wildly mussed hair, a couple of passes all that's needed to put it almost perfect. A big yawn reveals small, blunt fangs.

"Good morning." Weiss offers. "Sleep well?"

"Afraid not," but the otter laughs softly. "Just tossed and turned all night."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's all right." the older woman swats the air with a dismissive hand. It wasn't caused by anything Weiss had done, it was a collection of uncontrollable things: Atlas is too cold, the bed feels too big, the room too empty

"Are you hungry? Or perhaps you would like some coffee?"

"Not for now, thank you. Let's talk first." and she crawls out of the makeshift nest on all fours to the edge of the bed, perching there with her legs crossed, hands resting on her ankles. She pats the empty space beside her with her tail, extending the invitation for Weiss to sit. "It's about yesterday."

"I had a feeling." Weiss nods as she settles and crosses one leg over the other, posture perfect. "So?"

"You'll likely think this sounds outrageous," a little laugh, her fingers drumming the tops of her feet.

"Try me." she smiles, entirely serious but not wanting to seem too much so.

Tag takes a breath, shoulders hanging a little on the exhale. "You can sense auras, can't you?"

"I can, though I've noticed it's a little different now. It feels, I don't know...more intimate, maybe?"

"It's more than just the sensation of energy," the faunus has a knowing lilt in her voice, "it's their life force. You can distinguish it as a person; like the day we met, you knew so much about me before you even knew my name."

"Well...yes, I suppose. I mean, it took some time, but I could pick my team mates out of a crowd if I tried."

"I don't doubt it. If that's the case, then maybe this won't seems so ridiculous." She pushes her hand through her hair again, her tail pulling in an arc across the sheet with a textile whisper. "Did you feel anything unusual about the creature? The Lion?"

Weiss took a moment to think, not wanting to answer too quickly. "I...can't say that I did. Then again, I've never been exposed to anything like that before."

"Fair enough."

"Did you?"

Tag is silent at first, brow knit in uneasy contemplation. "I believe so, yes."

"What was it like?"

Her brows pull tighter together, her full lips pressing into a thin line. "It felt...alive. Something about that Grimm...I'm convinced something about it  _is_ human."

Weiss blinks, leaning back slightly as surprise flickers across her face. "Are you sure?"

"It was brief, and I didn't expect it -the feeling came over me after Ruby...dealt with it, and disappeared once we were too far away- but there is no mistaking it."

Weiss feels a small tremor when she comprehends the idea that Ruby hadn't destroyed the creature after all. "So...what do we do?"

"Well, that's where things get a little complicated, I'm afraid." Tag props her elbow on her thigh, her jaw on her fist. "As time goes by you'll probably feel something similar, but my powers have instilled me with certain instincts, certain...compulsions. Spring is the season of life and renewal, life is precious to me and I'll do most anything to protect it. Mind you I've taken lives before, but only to save others -I had no choice. But," she pauses, tongue between her teeth in the partial formation of a word, "until I'm  _totally certain_ of what this thing actually is...I can't do lethal harm to it, and I can't stand by and let someone else do it either."

"In that case, I dare say that  _complicated_ is an understatement." Weiss stiffens a little further. "And it's not that I don't respect your intuition, it's just...that thing tried to kill us and already destroyed your home...you'll have to excuse my reaction,"

Tag exhales as she stands up in one fluid motion, beginning to pace in no certain pattern with her hands behind her head. Having said such things aloud in regards to a Grimm, even  _she_ thought she sounded a little crazy. Since Grimm came to be, humans and faunus alike were told they were soulless monsters, hideous manifestations of all the dark things in the world. How could anything like that resemble human beings at all, much less enough so to make a Maiden think twice?

Weiss takes a moment to process it, her gaze switching from her lap to the floor, to Tag and back again. It shouldn't make sense, none of this should. If it had come from anyone else in all of Remnant, it wouldn't. She swallows, clears her throat. "What would you need to be sure?"

Tag turns on her heels to face her, looking genuinely surprised. "I would have to touch it."

Weiss almost laughs but manages to keep it down, responding flatly with "That's insane."

"You're telling  _me._ " Tag smiles in spite of herself, her arms swinging down to let her hands settle on her hips. "And I know this just makes things more difficult for us, but...if there's even a slight chance that-,"

Weiss loathes to interrupt but "You're suggesting that someone is  _possessed_ by a Grimm. Do you hear yourself?"

"Oh, I do." she nods, still smirking. "And saying it out loud makes me feel ridiculous to say the least. But...just because we've never seen it before doesn't mean it's impossible."

After a moment Weiss inches her shoulders and lilts her head, not quite agreeing but not quiet arguing either.

"And the Lion is said to be one of the ancient Grimm, one of the few that birthed all the rest. Old stories say they couldn't be slain, not completely, so who knows what else they're capable of?"

"I'd rather not think about it, really."

"Afraid we don't have much choice but to do just that."

Weiss lets a defeated sound work through her throat, her posture diminishing briefly. Then she laughs, facetious. "What will the others say?"

"That we're both bat-shit crazy." Tag mimics the noise, a genuine edge to it at the look on Weiss' face at the expletive. "But we do need to tell them about this."

"I agree just...how?"

"An excellent question." Tag nods her head once, an exaggerated gesture. "The only way I can consider is simply to tell them the truth."

"Naturally. Being cryptic at this point doesn't help anyone. Should we tell them today?"

Tag quickly shakes her head. "There's nothing to be done about it now, and I think the others need a little more time. Ren and Nora especially."

For a moment Weiss forgets all about the Grimm and the ludicrous notion of possession, her heart tugging gently within her ribs. "Is your mark still active?"

Tag nods, her hand at her wrist again. "Though it...feels more distant now. If that makes any sense." the faunus shifts from one foot to the other, uncertain, continuing more quietly with "Why wouldn't they be trying to reach me?"

"Maybe they're looking for help. Or Jaune."

Tag shrugs. "What a stroke of luck that would be."

"One can hope." the heiress sighs.

Then, before another word can pass between them, one of the reminders on Weiss' scroll chimes.

 

_(III)_

Manticore had been carried to shore by the high tide. It lay there, unmoving and undisturbed throughout the night. Not even gulls began to circle at the potentiality of a meal. Instead, as morning broke, the life force of the Grimm begins radiating from its host, reaching out in quiet pulsations as its consciousness stirs. It struggles a little in the confinement of its human shell, bristling, it's still weak.

Other small Grimm begin to creep out of the treeline and onto the desolate beach, most of them resembling rats, but there is also a collection of Boarbatusk and a pair of large Ursa. They start to gather around Manticore as if drawn in by bait, unhesitatingly, forming a semicircle with but an arm's reach between them and it. Grunting and snarling and squeaking titters blend together to form an unsettling sort of static among the lapping of the waves. Another solid pulse of Manticore's energy makes every last one of them recoil in unison, the noise pitching briefly. One of the Ursa pushes to the front, compelled almost helplessly to come closer. It dips its massive head, sniffing, translucent slaver dripping from its jaws as its brimstone eyes thin.

Without warning Manticore lashes out with one clawed hand and snatches the seam of the bone plate on the Ursa's face, talons hooking almost underneath it at the back of its head. The monster's head thrashes back and forth, reactionary and coupled with a furious bellow. Holding fast, Manticore brings up its other hand in a powerful swing of motion, ripping through the pitch fur and flesh of its throat. Something like hot tar comes spilling out of the sucking wound with a wet burst, coils of steam rising in the late Autumn air. The Ursa gurgled and sputtered, its attempts to get away growing steadily less insistent. Manticore pulls it to the dirt, its great body flopping on its side and making some of the other lesser Grimm scatter. Manticore keeps its hands on the Ursa, one buried deep into the open wound it had made, up to the elbow in jet ichor. The slime starts crawling across Manticore's pale, vein-shot skin, settling over the fractures in its armor and the empty socket of where its tail had snapped. As the Ursa dissolves into a lingering black haze the bone plates pull back together with punctuated snaps, its tail reconstituted one vertebra at a time until its whole and capped with its amber stinger.

Finally Manticore opens its eyes, now alight with renewed toxic fury, and rises to its feet, the lesser Grimm drawing further away as a fresh, enormous pulse of dark energy rolls over them. For a moment Manticore is still, looking over the small gathering as it sifts through the desolation of its own mind, mentally feeling for the touch of the Witch. Now that it has recovered it can return to its task. 

Its thoughts follow the crimson threads of Salem's magic, back to the pulsating knot that binds it all together, keeps the two tethered. It had unraveled some, some of the strands broken or having changed color to bronze. Manticore tries to focus passed them, to zero in on the purpose Salem had given it. The Maidens were much too far away now, it couldn't even sense them, but there is still valid prey nearby. Being attached to the memories of its host allows Manticore to familiarize itself with the auras of its targets, and almost immediately it susses out the largest one. A swelling, bright and abrasive warmth deep in the forest ahead that is drawing steadily further away. It would have to start now, quickly, if it meant to catch it.

It takes one step and stops, the smaller Grimm retreating a little more. A second step, the motion obviously forced as its foot comes down heavily, pushing into the mud. Manticore growls low in its chest, the only threat it senses being inside itself. Its host is resisting, desperately clawing, begging for something wordlessly, but begging all the same. It tries to move but can't, lips pulling into a toothy snarl when it keeps trying without success, like its feet are anchored to the world. The muscles in its jaw bunch tight, a little smoke working passed its teeth as it tries one more time, finally able to press on.

The lesser Grimm scatter, leaving Manticore to its work as it disappears into the trees. It will run the forest the entire day in search of that awful golden blossom of aura that only gets further away, all the while feeling the weak yet demanding tug of its host like a string of barbed wire pulling at the back of its mind.

 

 

Author's Note: A little short, I know, but it seems like a good place to end it. Bumbleby is on the horizon, though I don't know how soon, but I'll try to focus more on Yang in the coming chapters nonetheless. All the encouragement and kudos are super helpful to my confidence, thanks to everyone offering those up -love you lots. Especially Strayphoenix, you're my jam, fam. Can't wait to see you all next chapter.

 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Being woken up before you're ready is hard, especially when you're a person who really enjoys a deep sleep but rarely gets one. Yang enjoys sleeping heavy but doesn't often get the chance at it for one reason or another; sometimes it's phantom pain, sometimes it's simple physical frustration, other times it's nightmares of a red-haired, horned, slavering monster with dagger teeth and an eyeless face and a blood red katana. Once it was a dream about a cat-eared shadow that she kept reaching for but could never grasp, the shade threading through her fingers like smoke. 

However none of these things have woken her up at this ungodly hour of half-past eight. No, it's Weiss -though she can feel the initial static of the phantom pain setting in her stump- going on about doctors and appointments, and how she can't eat anything until after the blood work is done. All those factors make the sensation of sandpaper on her nerves that much more evident. God damn, she wanted a burrito. Or something.  _Anything_ .

Weiss somehow manages to drag Yang -almost literally- out of bed, but only after giving her a half-firm dressing down about not being dressed at all. The heiress moves about the room, picking up Yang's clothes and throwing them at the bed so she'll have an easier time putting them on. Realizing the blonde brawler had also lost what spare clothes she had when the airship crashed, Weiss makes the same promise she had to Ruby. "After your appointment I'll take you two shopping."

"You realize Ruby and I don't have any money," Yang yawns, twisting awkwardly to put her bra in place.

"Did I say anything about money?"

Yang just smiles with a little laugh, her shoulders inching upward. "Can we do lunch too? Because I could eat a park bench if you put it in front of me right now."

"As soon as I pick you up." Weiss assures her with one nod, her eyes in her scroll. "Now, just so you know, they're going to ask you a lot of questions. Try not to be a bully about it, all right?"

"You kidding? I'm  _fabulously_ well behaved." She stands up, stretching as far as her stable frame will allow.

Weiss rolls her eyes. "Would you like someone to go with you? Maybe Ruby or,"

"No, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl."

"And  _don't_ flirt with Doctor Arcane  _please_ . Not only is she almost old enough to be your grandmother, but she's married."

Yang just blows a raspberry and slips her shirt on.

Weiss looks up from the scroll. "Do you need help with anything? Shoes? Hair?"

"Hm? Ah, no, I got it. Thanks." her smile is uneven, uneasy, but it passes.

"You're sure? I don't mind,"

"I'm sure. You're busy."

"The board can wait. They'll see me in an hour anyway."

"Oh. That explains the suit." Yang tips her chin, looking gently amused.

"I hate it."

"I don't doubt. You look uncomfortable as hell."

"And I am." she fakes a smirk, fakes it through the constriction of the god-awful skirt that she feels she has no business wearing.

"But it does  _wonders_ for that non-existent ass of yours."

Weiss' eyes and lips thin viciously, brow lowering, though the severity of the expression is dampened by the subtle pinkness in her cheeks. "Let's get going or you'll be late."

"Okay, okay, no need to twist my arm."

"Oh my  _god_ ." she groans, eyes rolling back as her body slumps.

Yang just laughs.

The two eventually leave the manor, climbing into a waiting white, Schnee Dust Company sedan. There's little talk between them in the back seat, most of it just passing suggestions from Weiss about what to expect during the consultation and second hand praise of Dr. Arcane from Captain Erikson yesterday -who herself is a double amputee below the knee. Yang watches the city go by through the window, Weiss still stares holes into her scroll.

To be wholly honest Yang misses most of what she says, blaming it on the empty pinch in her stomach and the half-numb pain that's nestled in the end of her stump. It's almost starting to burn, a tongue biting tenderness at the very center of the scar tissue on the end, near where the bone is. Her aura reacts to it, rippling across the rest of her body like a hot breath. Her first instinct is to massage it, but she stops herself. Just let it be a moment longer, so long as you can tolerate it, until it gets so bad that your mind goes white.

"Yang?"

"Hm?"

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, still sleepy I guess."

Weiss doesn't argue, though she's never seen a need for sleep make someone look so stiff and uncomfortable. She sets her scroll face down on her thigh, her hand still on it, and watches Yang for a moment. Watches as her hand curls into a slow fist, fingers hooking into the fabric of her shirt as her arm rests across her waist. She can feel it too, Yang's aura flaring gently, like the flicker of a firefly. Part of her feels the need to say something about it, but her more pragmatic self knows it's a conversation that won't live long.

The sedan rolls to an easy stop in front of the clinic, the back door on the driver's side swinging open before the driver can offer up the courtesy himself. Yang steps out onto the sidewalk, pausing only a moment.

"I'll be back to pick you up after my meeting. If that turns into too long a wait, text me and I'll send the driver for you."

"All right. Thanks for the lift, princess."

" _Be nice_ to the doctor," Weiss reminds her, one manicured nail pointing.

"Yeah, yeah, see you later." She'll stand on the curb long enough to watch the car roll back onto the main thoroughfare and disappear into early morning traffic.

 

The clinic waiting room is quiet, only one other person occupying one of the half dozen chairs lining the wall in front of the reception desk. Yang checks in and slumps into one of the other chairs, slouching with a thought to maybe catch a few more minutes of light sleep. The grumbling in her stomach does a fine job of screwing that up.

Within a half hour she's called back and led into an examination room where the nurse starts taking down her height and weight -with a short joke about how the scale adds ten pounds, to which Yang responds with "Yeah, in my bra"- before sitting her down in preparation of drawing blood. Unable to resist the opportunity, Yang goes on to say the nurse is the prettiest blood sucker she's ever met, which was supposedly saying a lot since she almost let the last one stab her. Yang is considering asking for her number when Dr. Arcane lets herself in.

Silver haired and olive skinned, she introduces herself and shakes Yang's hand before sitting in the rolling chair situated at a cramped desk.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Cranky. Hungry. The usual." she means it in marginal fun.

" _Is_ it the usual?" a genuine question. "Do you find yourself...cranky a lot?"

"Nah." _Not when I'm actually feeling something other than static._ "Just an early morning I wasn't ready for today."

"I understand." the doctor nods, laughs a little. "Could I see your arm, please?"

Yang nods wordlessly, feeling her skin bristle a little as she works out of the lightweight jacket she has on over her tank top. She can feel the doctor's eyes on her stump immediately and she doesn't like it.

"How long ago was the trauma?"

"...How long has it been since Beacon fell?"

Dr. Arcane looks at her with reigned surprise. "Were you there?"

"Yeah." _Some nights I still am. Living the same five seconds over and over again in my head._

"Well," she swallows, "nearly a year ago now. Within the next week or two I believe."

"That so? Hm, time flies." Yang watches her hands like a hawk, jaw steadily tightening as the doctors fingers come closer to touching her skin. A part of her wants to jerk back. The physical contact threatens to make her stomach twist.

The scaring is smooth, raised, and a bright rosy pink; common appearance for a wound as old as this. Dr. Arcane touches it as little as possible while she looks it over, using the edges of her hands to manipulate the remainder of the limb. "It's healed very well, very clean."

"Is that good?"

"Yes, actually." she nods. "It will make the work a little easier." then she withdraws her hands, rolling her chair back to the little desk to tap away on a tablet that looks much like a scroll only bigger. "Do you experience any phantom pain or muscle spasms?"

"Sometimes."

"Has it formed a pattern, can you predict it at all?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Are you experiencing any now?"

 _Yes. Feels like a little, yappy dog is chewing on it._ "No."

"On a scale of one to ten, what's the worst you've felt?"

Yang thinks back briefly, back to a very long night perhaps three months after she returned to Patch. The pain had been radiating at a low simmer for _hours_ , all afternoon and into the night. After she had tried to eat she thought maybe a hot shower would help -it had before. But the pain pitched and all she could do was slump into the tub with her clothes still on, her body flashing into a hot sweat and fits of restrained writhing as she gnashed the collar of her shirt between her teeth. When it finally passed she just laid there the rest of the night, taxed and shaking until Taiyang found her.

"Can I say twelve?"

"Of course." Dr. Arcane rolls back over, one hand in the pocket of her white coat. "I have to take some measurements now, is that all right?"

 _No. Stop touching me._ "Sure. Whatever you have to do."

The doctor tries at small talk as she pulls a stretch of measuring tape across Yang's back from shoulder to shoulder, across her chest, both arms from shoulder to elbow and then elbow to wrist to the end of her longest finger. She measures everything twice, making sure its accurate, calling the numbers to the nurse for her to record. Then she measures the thickness of her arms in several places, Yang chancing a brief flex of her biceps with a smirk. With all the measurements taken and logged in, Dr. Arcane retrieves her tablet and uses it in congress with an app to weigh Yang's arm and stump respectively.

"I have a diagram of the prosthetic you'll be receiving, would you like to look it over? It hasn't been assembled yet, so if there's anything specific you need or would like to change, now would be a good time."

"Sure." And Yang leans in to look at the tablet with her.

She only half catches what Dr. Arcane says, her attention fixed on the bright green outlines of the schematics, her mind unconsciously imprinting herself on the human silhouette aligned on the screen beside the prosthetic and what looked like some sort of mounting attachment. Yang hears the important stuff, anxiety flinching in her chest as she acknowledges certain words and phrases. Directly to the bone. Reopen the stump. Reconnect the nerves. Twelve hour procedure. Three week recovery.

"We're working on something new also, to help manage your phantom pain. It's an internal TENS unit."

"...A what?"

"It's a small machine that will be a part of the base attachment," she taps the screen of the tablet to enlarge the image, "it'll be directly connected to the major nerve endings in your arm. It picks up the reaction of your body to pain and sends a small electric pulse along the nerve to disrupt the signal before it reaches the pain center of your brain."

"...That really works?"

"The clinical trials have been very promising." Dr. Arcane nods, smiling hopefully. "The worst of the results so far have been from the unit simply not functioning. So even if it doesn't provide any relief, at the very least it won't make things worse."

 _Story of my life these days._ Yang nods slowly. "So when is this...happening?"

"I'm looking at the end of the week for the procedure, pending the results of your blood work and how long it takes for the technicians to build the unit. I'll have my office contact you with the date. In the meantime," she rolls her chair again, back to her desk to retrieve a stack of papers an inch thick and stapled together, "I want you to familiarize yourself with the user manual."

"Instruction manuals are for dudes," Yang smirks with a shrug, but takes the booklet anyway.

"I wholly agree," Dr. Arcane chuckles, "but I still have to give it to you. Also, have you considered seeing a counselor?"

"Yeah. For all of two seconds."

One silvery brow rises. "...I take it you don't intend to see one?"

Yang nods once.

"Why? Limb loss has a tendency to be particularly...hard on one's mental state."

"No offense, but a counselor -a total stranger- doesn't have what I need."

"Perhaps you would like to talk to someone who's been through similar trauma? It'd be easier for you to relate,"

 _God damn it, I said no._ "Again, no thanks. I know what I need and neither of those things fit the bill."

"All right, I didn't mean to push." The good doctor must have taken the hint from the insistent lilt in Yang's tone. "It's just common practice in these circumstances is all, you understand."

"Sure I do, just doing your job, right?" Yang inches her shoulders, dismissive. Then she clears her throat. "So where's the list of things I _shouldn't be_ doing before the surgery?"

"It's not that long, though I can print one out for you. It isn't anything too extravagant; no alcohol, no caffeine -do you smoke?"

"Occasionally." _An occasion like right now..._

"Then try to abstain until after the procedure, if you can. Otherwise I want you to be as stress-free as possible, whatever that means for you _-_ so long as it's within sensible moderation."

Yang slouches, one leg crossing the other lazily. "Pfft, moderation is for dudes too."

"Now if only _they_ knew that." the two women share a little laugh before she continues, "Do you have any other questions?"

"Not off the top of my head." Yang answers almost too quickly. To be honest, she just wants to get the hell out of here and get out from under the sensation that she's being stared at in a way she doesn't appreciate.

"Well, let me give you my card, you can call me if you think of anything."

"All right. Thanks, doc." Yang takes the laminated slip of paper when its passed to her, sticking it in her pants pocket.

"Could I ask a personal question?"

"Might as well." at this point, she's too hungry to care. Part of her mind is lingering on the idea of stuffing her face and taking a nap right after.

"I may just be making assumptions, but," Dr. Arcane stands, taping a few more things out on her tablet before setting it down on the small desk. "Do you actually want to do this? As I said I may just be reading too much into it, but,"

Yang takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as her eyes settle on the floor. "No, I want this. It's just...people need me, you know? I can't let them down again."

Dr. Arcane eventually nods, only partly understanding, but satisfied enough not to pry any further.

 

_(II)_

The pale, hulking shape of a silver bison lumbers from between the trees and into a sprawling meadow, the long grass yellowing with the coming end of Autumn. Its even strides slow to a stop, the animal dipping its head to reach down and take up a mouthful of wild growing grains and flowers. Jaune slides from its back, dropping against its side after an uneasy landing, rubbing his tailbone once he's stable on his feet. He looks around, initially only somewhat familiar with his surroundings. After a moment he has his bearings, catching sight of an easily missed gravel road that cuts through the middle of the meadow.

A day and a half of hard traveling had gotten them this far, that and Jaune's strangely acute sense of direction. Billy elected early on to stay in their bison form in order to cover more ground while expending less energy. It also allowed them greater access to food -their stomach now able to tolerate almost anything, keeping them from passing out while the Maiden mark supported their aura to maintain the change. The pair had only stopped long enough to sleep and drink when the opportunity presented itself, not wanting to be vulnerable to Grimm any longer than was necessary. Speaking of which, they had yet to see any so far. Not that they hadn't felt a wave of goosebumps every now and then, especially when things were just too quiet.

Jaune looks to the west, one hand shadowing his brow, shielding his still somewhat tender eyes from the midday sun. "Underbrush is the nearest town, it should be on the far side of those hills." And he points with his other hand, receiving only a low rumble in response. "If we push it, we can be at my family's farm by this evening."

Another chesty grumble coupled with a snort, Billy's big hooves shifting beneath their massive body to point them west so they can somewhat travel and eat at the same time. Jaune follows, his steps only a little more urgent than a stroll, the bare minimum to keep up. When the bison's appetite is satisfied they give a toss of their head, a silent invitation for the human to climb on their back again. Though his tailbone is still a little sore he complies, knowing this way is simply more efficient. He holds on tight, body low to the thick line of the animal's spine as it steadily gains momentum into something between an amble and a gallop.

Every few steps he finds himself smiling a little wider, feeling a little lighter. He's almost home. It's a feeling that is occasionally tempered with ill-at-ease, a sensation that makes him look around with an expectation to see Grimm nearby. Once he swears he sees a shock of bright red in the tall grass behind them, looking twice but finding nothing.

On the far side of the meadow, nestled among the hills of its western border, more trees gather together around the continuation of the gravel road. They disappear into the shade, the sky completely blotted out by a rustling sea of amber and gold and crimson leaves with some evergreens weeding in between. They'll stop once, taking advantage of a small and shallow creek beneath a sole wooden bridge.

When they come out the other side of the forest the sky is beginning to burn orange, the sun descending bright and defiant on the horizon in front of them and casting the illusion of fire over another sprawling meadow. To Jaune, all of this is familiar now. Lifting his head he can make out the distant shapes of Underbrush through the sunlight in his eyes, his heart jumping in his chest with a happiness he hasn't felt in...who knows how long. When they come close enough he jumps down from Billy's back again, landing more steadily this time but with just as much ache in his backside.

"We can stop in town for the night -the inn is a loft with a hammock over the post office," Jaune laughs a little, "but the farm is only a mile further down if you think you can make it."

The bison leans away, its form shuddering with a platinum shimmer before it becomes the faunus again. Billy straightens, arms stretching upward, feet crossing awkwardly at a slight daze that works through them. "Another mile should be fine. We have the daylight for it." they shake themselves, rolling their broad shoulders. "And I'm _not_ sharing a bed with you."

"Why, afraid I'll steal the blankets?"

"No. _You_ should be concerned about when I roll over."

"...Oh. Right."

"Is there anyone in this village that can repair my clothes?"

"My sister can." he answers without a second thought.

"The same sister who needs the shots?"

"No, my other sister."

Their silver eyes thin, curious. "...How many sisters do you have?"

"Seven."

"Ah." a slow nod. "Are you the eldest child?"

"No, I'm number seven." he seems proud to say. "I have one sister younger than me." His smile widens, becoming sentimental. His mind is suddenly filled with memories of a wild little girl in hand-me-down clothes too big for her little self, running around shoeless and careless with untamed hair like gilded springs bouncing around her face. God, he missed her. He missed all of them. "I can't wait for you to meet them."

Billy smiles a little, perhaps sensing what the human feels.

The pair pass through the little town without pause, Jaune returning greetings from familiar neighbors as they go. Some people stare as they close up their shops, though they don't seem to notice or much care.

"Hunters don't come through here very often." Jaune says. "Not a lot of Grimm either, my little sister has never even seen one before. I don't think this town has been attacked since...as long as _I've_ been alive anyway. I think that's why mom and dad settled down here."

Billy says nothing, just nods, though there's visible curiosity in their face. Curiosity that becomes more apparent as they walk by a signpost, planks of wood nailed to it and angled in different directions, carved with the names of other towns and places of interest. Billy can't read them.

One is inscribed _Beacon_ , but it looks like someone has taken the liberty of scratching it out. Another points in the same direction, southwest - _Vale/Watership station_. Another points due south - _Queen's Hollow._ At the top is another plank, pointing west, that reads _The Warren_. Their destination.

The gravel road takes them into another patch of forest and collection of hills, the path leaning upward for half a mile before leveling out. The treeline breaks for the last time, creating a ring around the Warren, opening up to a sprawl of pasture littered with patches of buttercups and dandelions. The road winds across it, slanting to the south and coming to its end in front of a large structure best described as a barn.

It's one of three on the property, but it stands out in particular from the other two. For one it has windows, the amber glow of lights burning through them invitingly. Window boxes full of flowers sit comfortably beneath the glass panes, overflowing with green leaves and rainbows of blossoms. There are tilled plots all around the perimeter of the building, some of them empty for the season, others bearing the last of their annual bounty before winter comes; pumpkins fat enough to trip over, rows of cabbage, ranks of green onions that could be smelled from the road, and a small army of green sprigs -the crowns of nearly ripe carrots. A larger plot of land is fenced in on the barn's south side, but lays empty. Spent for the year.

Two more barns of equal size sit on the property, both bright red and windowless. One muffles the sounds of animals, cows and horses and chickens. The other is still, housing the numerous tools needed to run the place.

Jaune feels himself smiling again as he watches the door at the front of the main barn, watches as it flies open and a little girl -a rabbit faunus with one flopping ear and the other up straight- comes running through the opening with arms up in the air.

"Jaune's home, Jaune's home!" she chants loudly, a faded Pumpkin Pete's t-shirt whipping around her small body. "Momma, momma, Jaune's home!"

If he had it in him, Jaune would have run to her. Instead he pushes himself as fast as he can, making an honest effort as he holds out his arms once his sister is close enough. The smaller than average six-year-old leaps at him, arms and legs out, latching onto his armor as he wobbles at the impact of her body to his. His arms snap around her and hold her tight, her arms are around his neck with equal temerity.

Billy stands and watches from a few steps back, arms crossed, contently amused. "Was she expecting you?"

"Yumi always knows when family comes home." Somehow, one way or another, the youngest Arc child could always tell when someone came to the Warren, and always knew if it was a stranger or not. Jaune kisses the top of her head and loosens his hold just a little, enough to where he can tip his chin and look at her.

Yumi pushes back on his shoulders, pouting just a little. "Trixie said you got eated!"

Jaune laughs, shaking his head. "I did not get eat-," he stops, his smile faltering a little as he catches himself, "...okay, I _did_ get eaten, but I'm fine."

"Did you get pooped?"

"No." _Thank god for that_. Jaune moves her around until she sits on his hip, allowing him to continue walking. "Yumi, where are your shoes? You know you're not supposed to go barefoot at night."

"It's not night yet!" she argues, one hand jutting upward to point at the lingering orange glow of the sky. "Besides, _they're_ not wearing shoes either!"

"Billy doesn't have shoes." and for a moment, as she starts to squirm against him, he wonders if the bison has _ever_ warn them. "Yumi, don't climb on me,"

"I'm not," which she clearly is, scrambling across his chest to his shoulder, perching on it for all of a second before using him as a springboard to launch herself at Billy. She latches on to their incredible forearm, Billy lifting her with ease. "Why don't you got shoes?"

"Yumi, don't bother them, they're tired."

"It's fine." Billy assures him, smiling wide enough to show teeth. They actually laugh as the little girl climbs up on their shoulders, perching there and using their horns like handlebars.

"Come on, Yumi, don't be rude."

" _Jaune_ , _my boy_ ,"

Jaune responds to the all too familiar voice, it's accent, and cuts away to look back towards the house. His mother is sprinting down the gravel path towards him just as Yumi had, no shoes and all. Her brightly colored skirt billows around her legs like her white blouse around her torso, several gilded and beaded necklaces dance against her collar bones as she runs. Her long, black and rust spotted rabbit ears are flat against her head, blending in with the wild coils of her similarly colored hair. She half-skids to a halt in front of Jaune, her dark hands cupping his face, pushing his hair away before she starts kissing his forehead and his cheeks. She pulls him against her, one arm bracing across his back and the other hand carding through his hair. As tall as Jaune is, his mother is easily three inches taller, more than a foot if you include the ears that now stand erect.

"Oh, my boy is home," she kisses his temple several times. "I was so scared. I don't hear from you for _months_ , then I see your face all over the news saying you're _missing_ ,"

"Whoa, whoa, what? Mom, what are you talking about?" Jaune has to push a little, but eventually earns the space to lean back and look his mother in the face.

"Just as I said," she nods once, still fussing over his hair, "we still get the news out here, and just day before yesterday I see _my own son_ on the television. What on earth did you go and do to get _Atlas_ looking for you?"

For a moment he can't speak and just looks back at her, blinking and slack-jawed. Then he sputters before answering, "I didn't _do_ anything. I," he takes a breath, trying to stabilize his frazzled thoughts before they get away from him. He smiles, the expression as tired as he is. "It's a long story, mom, and I'm exhausted. I'll explain everything, I promise, but-"

"And look at your clothes -full of holes! You're a mess, boy, and you smell of hot sick," she looks him up and down, her expression steadily stretching and distraught. "Not another word out of you until you've cleaned up. You and your," she pauses long enough to look at Billy in a similar fashion, "friend. Into the house with both of you."

He exhales, relieved and happy in equal measure. "Sure, mom." and he lets her lead him with a comforting palm against his back.

God it's good to be home.

 

In the meadows and hills surrounding Underbrush, Manticore is given pause. Suddenly, just like that, it has lost the trail. The small sun of aura it had been following just...disappeared.

To the north and across the sea in Atlas, Tag is on the cusp of sleep, and is jerked back up by the most horrible, sinking feeling in her stomach. She knows - _knows-_ her mark has vanished, and without any news, she can only think the worst has happened to her Guardian.

 

 

Author's Note: Sorry for another short chapter, but, again, it felt like a good place to stop on this one. I'm going to make an honest effort to focus more on Yang, and Blake once she's back with the team which shouldn't be much longer now. Lots of character development is coming up, and plan on spending a lot of time with Jaune's family in the next couple chapters. I've put a lot into them so here's hoping you'll enjoy them as much as I do. Hope to see you there.

 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

A proper shower can make a world of difference. The thought crosses Jaune's mind as he tips back his head under the near scalding spray the get the shampoo suds out of his hair. The stress and strain of the last couple days seems to disappear, swirling down the drain along with all the filth that had settled in his skin. Once he's clean he shuts off the water, shaking it from his hair like a dog before stepping out of the stall and grabbing a towel. He dries off, dressing in the clean clothes his mother had left for him, but lingers long enough to look himself over in the mirror. Pulling a reddened palm across the fogged glass he's greeted by his bleary reflection. He looks tired, more so than he actually is as this is the first he's seen of the unnatural redness in his eyes. A part of him is surprised his mother hadn't mentioned it. Another, easier shake of his head allows him to pull away from it. He runs the towel over his head to somewhat dry his hair, followed by a rushed combing before he steps out of the bathroom.

Sounds and smells surround him as he enters the somewhat cramped hallway, the majority of which come from the kitchen. The scents of old wood, dried herbs and flowers, and the preparation of supper permeate the place, permeate him and bring him that much more comfort. Pans and plates clatter together as the table is set, something he hears instead of sees. He can hear Yumi congratulating herself every time she sets a place for someone, running back to her mother for further instruction. Jaune's feels a natural compulsion to gravitate towards that space, to be near his family, but he really needs five minutes off his feet. Just five minutes. There will be plenty of time to visit once everyone comes to eat.

Jaune's bedroom is at the top of a ladder tucked away into a corner of the corridor. He ascends with his head hanging, fatigue pulling him downward and tempting him to just crawl into his bed now that he's surrounded by familiar sounds and smells and feels safer than he has in months. But his stomach growls hard, almost twisting, and then his thoughts are dominated with the idea of his mother's cooking. He takes the steps a little faster.

His room isn't dark, the small lamp on his bedside table switched on and mostly filling the room with gentle yellow light, and it isn't entirely empty as Billy sits on the floor beside said table. Their hair is down, dark and unruly with moisture from their shower, their face clean of paint. They fuss with the clothes they had been lent, finding them on the cusp of too small. Their gut is threatening to peek out and their biceps are a good hard flex away from ripping the sleeves.

"Nessa is the biggest out of all of us," Jaune says in passing, trying not to laugh as he crosses the room and half flops onto his bed.

"But, as is the usual, I'm still bigger." Billy almost chuckles. "But I'm grateful. Your family is very generous. However, I'm concerned."

Jaune lifts his head, leaning back on his palms. He watches them a moment, notices a change come over their expression. "What wrong?"

"The mark has disappeared." they present their now bare wrist.

His brow pulls together when he marks the genuine concern on Billy's face. "...What does that mean?"

"One of two things, neither of which I can be certain of right now," they grumble a little, heir fingers touching where the mark had once been. "Either something strange is going on in this house or...something has happened to Tag."

For a moment they look at each other, wordless, and Jaune swallows. "I honestly can't say one way or the other. I mean, I certainly _hope_ Tag's okay...and if anything is off about the house, I couldn't tell you. You could always ask mom about it."

"It wouldn't be considered rude?"

"I don't think so." he shakes his head.

Billy nods. "We need to find a way to reach them from here."

"I know." Jaune exhales, his hand pushing heavily across his scalp, fingers hooking gently. "And we will, just...let's take a day, all right? We both need it."

Billy snorts, dismissive.

" _Supper's ready_ !"

Jaune stands up, stretching. "Come on, we'd better get to the table before the food's gone."

"Is that...common here?" Billy shifts to their feet, wood floorboards creaking under their weight.

"No, but I'm not chancing it." and he laughs a little as he starts down the ladder.

 

Two tablecloths of differing floral print cover the dinning table, there's two of them out of necessity as the table is so long. Two chairs rest at the head of the table, one with a plump cushion, while the remaining seats are in the form of long wooden benches one might more commonly see in a park or at any picnic table. Eleven places are set with mismatched bowls and glasses and cutlery, ranked and filed in a fashion that leaves room on the middle of the table for the chilled glass pitchers of homemade tea and water. Baskets of biscuits sit on either end of the table.

Gypsy hauls a massive stock pot from the stove with practiced ease and little visible effort, the modest collection of rings on her fingers clicking against the metal handles. She sets it down on the table with a puff of air and a satisfied nod when she sees that none of the still bubbling stew has spilled. Her attention is drawn away from it, her head turning to look beyond the den and to the hallway full of bodies and noise, all of her children answering the call to dinner.

Jessica is the eldest daughter -in her mid twenties- and could easily pass as a clone of her mother, much like the next three in line save for the head of difference in height. That being said she is also the shortest of the lot with the exception of Yumi. She favors dark, rich colored peasant dresses that make her curves look more like a blessing than a curse and somehow fit the appearance of her glasses, her white apron is dusted with graphite and pencil shavings. The pelt on her rabbit ears is glossy and jet black to match her wonderfully wild hair that she tries to keep tamed in a half bun. She strolls into the dinning room, greeting Gypsy before kissing her cheek and taking her seat.

Nessa and Trixie are the only set of twins, but aren't wholly identical, and are a year younger than Jessica. They're the same height -evenly six feet tall if you don't take their black and tan spotted ears into account- and well built, sturdy looking. Nessa looks heavier, broader in the shoulders and back from working a hammer and anvil since she was ten. She practically lives in tank tops and shorts with plenty of pockets, only deviating from that during the colder months with flannel shirts of varying colors. She always wears a bandanna to keep her hair out of her face, otherwise doing little else with it than keeping it shoulder length.

Trixie is by no means frail looking, quite the opposite, but is obviously leaner than her twin. Her hands are strong like her sister's, though her callouses come from countless splinters and pages of sandpaper and various other carpentry tools. Just this past summer she had replaced the roofs on both of the other barns on the property with minimal assistance. And while she favors her twin's sense of attire, tank tops and khaki capris with just as many pockets, she keeps her hair in an undercut -buzzed all around and just long enough and straight on top.

The two playfully shove and elbow each other as they come into the dinning room as one, pausing just long enough to kiss their mother.

There's a gentle knocking on the wood floor, a cane moving across the varnished panels in congress with barefooted steps. Lola comes closest to being a mimic of Gypsy, her mother sometimes referring to her as her mirror. The pattern and coloration of their lapin ears are the same, as is their height and rich, earthy skin tone. Lola keeps her hair much shorter, but restrains it with a bright silk scarf like her mother does. Her blouses and skirts are hauntingly similar as well. Her cane skids across the floor in front of her, alerting her to anything in her path as she comes into the room. She finds Gypsy with one searching hand, hugging her before offering the customary kiss in greeting. Lola finds her seat with Jessica's help, her older sister kind enough to brush a few stray chicken feathers from her hair as well as a fine, varied collection of dog hair from her shirt.

Right behind Lola is Alice, the first of them to have any trace of their father in her appearance. Her skin tone is only marginally lighter, and her eyes are warm and brown instead of bright blue. Her hair is dirty blonde -like her tufted ears- with natural waves and she can do almost anything with it. She comes into the dinning room, almost frolicking really, with her arms open to wind around her mother's neck.

"Smells great, momma," Alice hangs on her for a moment, her longs ears folded down as she tucks her head under Gypsy's chin.

"Thank you, dear." Gypsy squeezes her gently about the waist. "Your brother's home and he needs his clothes mended, you mind?"

"Not at all, I'll get started first thing in the morning."

"Jaune's home?"

Gypsy perches her fists on her hips at the sight of the next one. "Did you test your blood yet, child?"

"Yes, momma." comes a practiced answer with a sigh and a smile. Beveren, or Bev for short -or even Veren on some days- hugs Gypsy about the waist with both arms once her sister has moved on, perching her chin on her mother's shoulder until she gets a kiss on the temple. She has gently lighter skin than Alice and is thin as a rail. Her hair is an eye-catching red, dark like wet terra cotta, and arranged in dreadlocks that only reach as far as her more human looking ears. "When did Jaune get back?"

"Just an hour or so ago. And he brought a guest so I want the lot of you on your best behavior, you hear?"

"Yes, momma." they all say in unison.

 

Jaune's father is halfway to the den when Jaune and Billy come down the ladder, the three of them meeting at the head of the hallway. Noah is shorter than his only son by a head and a half, but that's mostly because he slouches to the support of his Lofstrand crutches -a necessity born from a degenerative disease that steadily worsened as he got older. Standing next to each other it's hard to say whether or not Gypsy is actually Jaune's mother and that he didn't just fall off his father's back -which is the running joke in the family, by the way. Noah smiles, his handlebar mustache moving with his mouth as he gestures for Jaune to come and hug him.

"Welcome home, son, good to see you. You're mother's been terribly worried since she saw you on the news."

"I know." Jaune nods, straightening and standing aside to give his father room to walk. "It's been...really crazy lately. Thankfully mom said I could explain myself in the morning."

"Good, 'cause you look like crap. And I mean that in the most loving way." Noah chuckles.

"I know."

"So who's your friend?"

"This is Billy, my friend from Menagerie. We met in Mistral."

"What on earth were you doing in Mistral?"

"Long story."

"About as long as your friend is tall, huh?"

Billy laughs, "Indeed."

Noah nods. "Fair enough. Now let's eat. As long as you've been gone, I'd imagine you miss your mother's cooking."

"You have no idea."

Yumi is quick to come barreling into the den, latching onto her brother's back with a fit of giggles. Jaune laughs even though she almost tears him to the floor, his arms tucking behind him to support her easy weight as they move towards the table. Jaune finds his usual seat amid a wall of sound, happy greetings from his sisters and a playful slap on the ass from one of the twins -most likely Nessa, she's the one to regularly tease him, occasionally calling him "numb nuts" with as much love as she can. He has to scoot closer to Lola to make room for Billy, Yumi electing to sit in his lap and eat which is a more regular occurrence than one would think. Gypsy helps Noah to his chair, taking his crutches once he's seated to prop them against the table before sitting right beside him. The two kiss lovingly before Gypsy gives them all leave to dig in.

Jaune is glad the conversation at the table goes everywhere but to him; no one asks where he's been, what he's been up to, and that suits him just fine. He's more than content to sit and listen, to feel the familiarity of their voices resonate through him, soothing him. He's happy to watch the twins jab each other as if their mother can't see them doing it -an elbow to the ribs followed by a kick to the shins beneath the table- and trying not to laugh. He helps Lola with her bowl, filling it for her before passing it down. Bev tells him about the new song she just wrote, and he nods when she asks if he would listen to it later -not tonight, of course. It's hard for him not to notice the look on Jessica's face from across the table; he knows she's staring at Billy, likely trying to memorize them in a way. She's an artist with an inherent fascination towards new things, so there's no room for him to be surprised.

Billy would end up speaking more frequently than Jaune, finding common ground with Gypsy in that they both grew up in Menagerie.

"By your accent, I'm guessing West Shore?"

Gypsy smiles. "My father took me there after he and my mom split. What about you? What village are you from?"

"My village didn't have a name."

Her brows lift, eyes wide. " _Oh_ , you're from the interior then? Suppose I should've guessed when I saw the paint on your face."

Billy nods. "Near the Lion's Tomb."

Gypsy sputters, almost dropping her spoon. "Goodness, haven't heard of that place since...heavens, since before my little sister passed. So it  _is_ real?"

"I'm beginning to believe it more and more all the time, actually, though I haven't seen it myself."

"Funny you should mention that," Gypsy takes a bite, swallowing quickly. "I have another sister -call her Gee-Gee- she just texted me out of the blue the other day asking about some of the old stories. We haven't spoken to each other _since Jaune was_ _two_."

"Oh? What brought it up -if you don't mind my asking,"

She waves a dismissive hand. "She said some strange things are getting stirred up in her neck of the woods  _and_ in Mistral. To my knowledge she lives in Vale, or near it at least, and things have been strange there since Beacon fell over. Jaune was there, he can tell you all about it."

"I know." Billy nods. "He's told me plenty."

"Why don't you tell the rest of us, then?" Nessa throws a bit of biscuit at her brother, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Yumi laughs before picking up the morsel and eating it.

"Jaune's exhausted, honey," Noah intervenes gently. "Give him some time, okay?"

"I just want to know if all the rumors are true," the larger twin inches her big shoulders. "I mean, are they  _really_ expecting us to believe it when Lisa Lavender says something-or-other about a  _Dragon_ trashing a combat school full of hunters  _and_ half the Atlesian fleet? Come on, dad,"

Jaune feels a wave of uneasiness shudder through him, threatening to make him gag on the bit of food working down his throat. His heart rate jumps briefly, something Lola must have sensed as she puts an easy hand around his forearm. "You okay, little brother?" she asks softly.

"Just tired. Thanks." he clears his throat.

She pats his arm before pulling away, accepting his answer.

"In any case," Gypsy continues, "I'd hate to think whatever has been happening around here has to do with the old tales. Some of them are...quite dark."

"True enough." Billy nods.

"May I be excused?"

Conversation stops and everyone looks at Jaune, and while most of their expressions are neutral or curious, Gypsy's is sympathetic.

"You've barely touched your food, boy."

"I know...I just," he takes a breath. "The day's just catching up with me." In truth, that initial anxiety has gradually swelled into something nameless and huge, something he would much rather be alone to process.

"All right. Just leave your bowl, I'll put it away for you in case you want it later."

"Thanks, mom." he nods and stands up slowly, like his body weighs too much for him to manage. "Good night." and he makes his way out of the room, through the den to the hallway, and back up the ladder.

All the while his mother watched him, her ears moving atop her head, searching. She turns back to the table, her body expanding and contracting with a breath.

"He'll be all right." Billy assures her, reading the concern on her face. "I won't say don't worry, because you will anyway,"

Gypsy laughs, an almost pitiful sound. Her ears fold back a ways. "Of course I will." Her son is growing up faster than she can keep track of. She knows he's likely seen things she never meant for him to see, been through things she can't fathom. She's not ready and she doesn't know what to do, just like she didn't know what to do with any of her daughters. But this is different. Jaune chose to become a huntsman, a profession that, to a point, she simply didn't understand. A profession she had turned down in her youth much to her mother's disappointment -not that she regretted it. Still...

She snaps back to herself. "Alice, stop playing with your food."

"You  _know_ I have to eat all the potatoes first. I have a  _system_ ." comes her matter-of-fact response.

"And your  _system_ is going to send you to bed without dessert, now eat."

 

The effort to hoist himself up the ladder to his room is draining, a little groan inching through his chest as he reaches the landing and starts towards his bed. Without a second thought he drops himself on the mattress, face down with limbs sprawled outward. He almost falls asleep this way, his eyes fighting to stay open as he lays there for several minutes. Without thinking he crawls further up, dropping onto his back once he's able to put his head on his pillow. He's able to stare at the ceiling for but a moment before he dozes off without notice.

Jaune opens his eyes again to see the same ceiling, not realizing that several hours have passed. He feels a gentle, warm pressure on his chest, encouraging him to lift his head and see the mess of dirty-blonde curls and rabbit ears pushed up against his chin. Yumi is fast asleep, one thumb in her mouth and her other arm curled in a death grip around a well-loved stuffed animal. This is nothing new, and he takes extra care to turn off the beside lamp while moving as little as possible.

He sleeps deep, straight through the night. No nightmares, no dreams at all.

Yumi is still on his chest when he wakes an hour or so after sunrise, though she stirs a little as he does. Out of some fraternal habit he gathers her onto his hip as he gets up and carries her along as he shuffles across the floor to the ladder and navigates his way down. With her perched there, her head sleepily against his shoulder, he goes about his morning routine mindlessly. It's like he never left for Beacon in the first place. He's a little more awake after brushing his teeth and combing his hair -both with one hand- allowing him to take notice of the warm and inviting aroma drifting through the house.

The house is mostly quiet as he moves into the den, then he picks up the dull noises of the television before he sees what's on it -a trivia gameshow. His mother occupies a worn leather recliner, long legs tucked beneath her as she sits in a sort of side-saddle posture. A panel of cork-board rests in her lap and the arm of the chair and she looks down her nose through a pair of rectangle frames at the seemingly countless unplaced pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Her ears are turned and tuned to the TV, picking it up loud and clear in spite of the low volume.

"Morning, Jaune." she greets softly, not looking up from her puzzle as she picks up and puts down a piece, only to repeat the gesture until it has a home.

"Morning, mom." he moves to the plump sofa near the recliner, sitting gently. "What are you making?"

"Cinnamon rolls. They'll be about ten minutes."

"Sounds great."

Gypsy smiles, looking up from her lap and over to him with a tilt of her head, her jaw bracing on one hand.

"Are there any chores I can help with around the house?"

"Don't believe so, besides I want you resting for a while yet. I can see you're still tired."

"I actually slept great last night. Best sleep I've had in a while."

"That so?" she goes back to her puzzle, "I've never known  _any_ of you kids to have trouble sleeping."

"Guess I've had a lot on my mind." which is the biggest white lie.

"That's what Billy said." her eyes are on him again, thinning with mild scrutiny. "But they have me believing there's more to it than just stress."

Jaune tries to hide the effort behind swallowing the little thickness in his throat. For a moment he can't meet his mother's gaze, distracting himself with Yumi as she squirms a little. He shifts her around, her backside settling in his lap with his arm cradling her back. "W-what makes you say that? What did they tell you?"

"They say you're having nightmares." she sighs a little, as if there's nothing wrong. "Are you?"

"...I guess."

"You know you can't lie to me, right?" Her ears twitch, slanting back a little. "So?"

It takes him a moment, his tongue a little heavy.

Jaune starts with the Vytal festival and the events that lead up to Beacon's evacuation, to the physical letter he had managed to send home from the refuge in Vale. He didn't have to go into great detail as the entire family had been watching the festival. When certain matters came to mind -anything involving Ozpin, Beacon's subbasement, or Cinder, he sputters. He kept thinking twice about whether or not he should divulge  _everything_ , like there was a jinx on that information and if he uttered a word of it to anyone they'd be cursed somehow. Even his own mother. But then she gives him  _that look_ , and he has to come clean.

All Gypsy does is nod, stopping him only once when he asks if she's ever heard the story of the four Maidens. She gets up from the recliner and moves to the kitchen the get the rolls out of the oven, giving him leave to continue once they're out on the counter to cool.

As he goes on to talk about what they found in the marshes of Mistral, Jaune finds himself steadily more surprised at how...subdued his mother's reactions are. He expects her to at least be visibly concerned when he talks about some of the Grimm they had encountered on their journey, but still she only nods. That is, until he broaches the subject of the strange humanoid Grimm, what Billy had referred to as the Lion. That's when she looks at him, features gently pulled with her glasses slipping down her nose.

"...What's wrong?" Jaune chances when he feels the silence going too far.

"Your Aunt Gee-Gee actually mentioned something quite like that in her messages. Almost word for word."

"Where did she hear it from?"

"A friend of hers named Qrow, said he came by the information from his niece and her friends." then her expression stretches further, mimicking the epiphany Jaune appears to share.

"Qrow Branwen?"

"How do you know," the two of them start asking the same question at the same moment, and both of them yield in unison as well. For a few tense seconds they just stare at each other, equally shocked and confused.

"Oh my," Gypsy exhales, carefully removing her glasses and setting them down. "Maybe you should fetch your friend before we continue this conversation, I put them up in Jessica's room. And you can put Yumi down while you're at it."

Jaune isn't sure why his mother suddenly seems so serious about this, especially since she appeared noncommittal before -that can be written off as a tired mother of eight wanting peace and quiet yet not wanting to be so rude as to ignore her children- but the change sets a quiet worry in his chest. Still, he does as he's asked, his thought running a mile a minute as he rises from the sofa and disappears in the hallway for a spell. Just as he had dozens of times before, Jaune puts his little sister back in her bed without disruption, tucking her in and tiptoeing out. Next he goes to the far end of the hallway to his eldest sister's door, tapping gently before opening it wide enough to stick his head through. Jessica is awake, a pencil in her free hand, a notebook in her lap as she sits on the bed, and meets his eyes with a finger quickly pressing against her lips to garner his silence. Jaune responds with a series of whispers and hand gestures, garnering her dismay with his request to wake the other faunus in the room that's curled up on the floor under a pile of blankets.

"You can finish sketching later, this is important." he insists finally before stepping inside, going to Billy and shaking them until they wake. It only takes a moment to rouse them to their feet.

The strong smell of coffee has mingled with the cinnamon in the air when they come back to the den and move through to the dinning room. Gypsy is at the stove, setting a kettle on to boil.

"Good morning, Mrs. Arc." Billy grumbles, pushing a big hand through their hair.

"Just Gypsy, please."

"Very well. So what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." she turns around, moving towards the dinning table to sit in her usual chair. "Just...we have a lot to discuss."

Billy hums, nodding slowly as they try to sit at the table, almost unsuccessful. "Good. I have questions."

"That makes three of us." Gypsy chuckles, but it's more of a worried sound than an amused one. "But they can wait until you two eat something."

Jaune and Billy sit quietly, their thoughts moving on the same frequency as they watch the rabbit faunus move about the kitchen. Jaune feels anxiety buzzing through him; is his mother involved in this somehow? He knew Qrow was one to get around, to travel a lot, but what were the chances that he and his mother were acquaintances? And what about his aunt, who he had never met -or at the very least couldn't remember if he had- what did  _she_ have to do with this? The world is starting to feel smaller to him in the strangest, potentially worst way.

The rest of the family will start filing in one at a time before their conversation could continue, likely the smell of breakfast drawing them out of bed. Yumi's the first, and she takes her usual seat in her brother's lap. Jessica is next and she greets her mother before getting a little red in the face and asking Billy if she can sit next to them. The twins push and shove each other into the dinning room, quickly ceasing their horseplay with a fit of snickers under threat of Gypsy's short patience. After several minutes of quiet, Noah will usher the last of the children to the table.

Conversation is minimal, a stark contrast to the night before as everyone is in a rush to eat and get to their chores. Within an hour breakfast is made, rationed out, and devoured, dishes stacked somewhat neatly on the corner of the table as each of them leave. Gypsy tells Yumi to help Lola with the animals so she can speak with Jaune and Billy in private. After a whiny protest she does as she's told.

Jaune watches his mother sit down in front of him instead of in her usual seat at the head of the table, puzzled when she can't immediately look at him. He swallows and takes a breath. "What's going on, mom?"

Her ears slant back gently, her brow lowering with visible reluctance. "I'm not too sure at the moment, honey. But, that aside, there's still some things I need to tell you. Normally I have this conversation with you kids once you turn eighteen, but you weren't here for your birthday so,"

"It's fine." he nods, reflexive. "Go ahead."

Gypsy props her elbows on the table, her fingers lacing together with the muted chiming of several rings. "Well, for starters," she pauses, jaw slackened with the stalled formation of the next word, "I'm a Witch."

 

 

Author's Note: I can't stop cranking out short chapters, my apologies. I guess Just don't want to overwhelm you with the various, upcoming dialogue dumps leading up to the next shit storm. I dunno. At the very least, I gave you proper warning about the Jaune-centric nature of them. And Blake's on deck for next chapter. In any case, I have some lore to delve out and some character development, so the next couple chapters could be a bit of a slog. Anyway, love you guys who follow and review, you're the best. And to the reviewer who headcanons Weiss having a magnificent booty, I  _ too _ wholeheartedly believe she has a magnificent booty. Yang's just joking and being kind of a butthole.

 


	17. chapter Sixteen

Jaune straightens his back slowly, blinking as his brow lowers over his eyes. For a moment he and Gypsy just look at each other, she with expectation on her face, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally, "...What?"

His mother tries not to laugh, though she smiles as she repeats "I'm a Witch, dear."

He blinks again, brow knitting a little further. Though his body is well awake now, it seems his brain hasn't been able to catch up. Again, "What?"

Now she laughs. "It's true. Me, your sisters, _my_ sisters, your grandmother...and likely her mother before her...we're all Witches."

Something in his head is still misfiring, Gypsy can see it on his face. A gear slipping, a tripping breaker. "...Does dad know?"

Her brow flattens over her eyes, her smile neutralized. "Do you know how long your father and I have been married, Jaune?" More than twenty years.

"Well...yeah, but...doesn't everyone keep secrets?"

"I think you're missing the point, honey." Then her smile returns, albeit subdued, and she reaches across the table, gesturing for his hands with both of hers. For a moment she just holds onto him, briefly thinking back to when he was much smaller as a mother sometimes does for no real reason.

"What does this have to do with the Lion, with the old stories?" Billy intercedes, never mind if it was polite to do so.

"Quite a lot, actually, though not so much with me _directly_." Gypsy separates from her son, discomfort flickering through her features as she straightens. "More so my sister, the one who passed...but I was still involved."

Jaune rubs his eyes, a groan vibrating through his chest. "Start at the beginning."

Gypsy takes a breath. "My dad took me from my mother when I was about...ten; mom wanted me to be like her, a proper Witch, but papa wasn't having it. He allowed me to learn enough of the craft to protect myself, to be who I am...he just didn't want me to be cold like she was. If that makes any sense.

"When I heard from Gee-Gee again -like I said last night, Jaune, you might have been two- she asked me to come to Vale and meet with her and her friends, that they needed all the help they could get. That's when and where I met Qrow Branwen, though he was barely a man then. How is he now, by the way?"

"Grouchy and drunk." Billy snorts.

Gypsy's ears twitch, her nose scrunching. "Doesn't sound like him at all. But, in any case, I went. It was for family after all, how could I say no?"

Jaune and Billy nod in unison, wordless.

"They made it seem like whatever they were into was _awfully_ important, we met in secret and everything. There were," she pauses, eyes raised to the ceiling as she counts in her head, "seven of us altogether, I think. In charge of it all was your headmaster, Jaune."

"Ozpin?"

"Yes, that's his name," she nods, sounding like she had just been reminded of something she had been hunting for hours. "Jarreth Ozpin. It was him, and I think Qrow had a sister -what a severe looking woman, and one other...her name escapes me. She had silver eyes, I remember that _vividly._ "

"So what was this secret meeting about?"

"The stories. They were convinced they were true, that the ancient Grimm were real, and out of _that_ came the _ludicrous_ idea that they could be hunted down and killed."

Billy offers up a puff of air that vaguely resembles a laugh. "How could anyone think something like that was even possible? Not so much that the Old Ones are real, but that common hunters could slay them?"

"Because they claimed to have done it once already, in Vacuo." her hands fuss together in front of her, eyes averted. "And then somehow they convinced _me_ it could be done."

"How did they manage that?" To Billy, Gypsy seemed exceptionally rational, down to earth, no nonsense. Certainly not someone who could have their mind changed easily.

"It wasn't as hard as you might think. You see," she clears her throat gently, "Ozpin can be quite persuasive. He knew how to spin an argument -he could get you to buy a shit sandwich with your last Lien and be grateful...and then I met Salem for the first time and she showed me what she could do."

"Salem?"

"My youngest sister, as I would learn." Gypsy nods to her son's question. " _Incredibly_ capable as a Witch. Unlike Gee-Gee and I, Salem's father _and_ our mother were there to teach her the craft. It was actually somewhat frightening."

"Men can be Witches?"

"No, but his mother had been. Witches rarely have sons," she smiles at Jaune, quietly proud, "but I think that's why mother fancied him. They seem to have some... _thing_ about them. Anyway...Salem's Semblance allowed her to thrall people, but combined with her magic, she could thrall _Grimm_ as well. Wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it for myself." That memory still gives her the chills; standing in Ozpin's office more than fifteen years ago, hugging herself as she watched Salem -at the time a hauntingly beautiful Mistrali woman- charm an Ursa, the biggest one she had ever seen. She made it dance like a puppet on invisible strings, and then compelled it to present its throat so she could slice it open with all the pomp and circumstance of throwing out the trash.

Jaune and Billy are making the same face, eyes wide, gaze fixed on Gypsy, speechless.

"The crux of the argument was that they believed if they could kill the Old Ones, the Grimm would eventually die off. It sounded bat-shit crazy, but just crazy enough to try, you know? Who wouldn't take a chance at getting rid of them once and for all? Especially _me_ since I had you little ones,

"There's an inland sea in the northern region of Mistral, and that's where we followed the stories to." Gypsy takes a breath, her brow pulling in the middle. "We had _no idea_ what we were getting into. According to Ozpin the one they had killed before had been _huge_ , big as a small town and then some, but this one had been _so much bigger._ Horrible serpent of a thing that likely coiled itself from one shore to the other more than once. It was such a mess.

"Not that we didn't try. We had even conscripted some of the local hunters to lend us a hand, but it wasn't nearly enough. Before we knew it half the region was flooded with Grimm -the damn monster had spit them up, a horde of Grimm just sprang out of the mess like _that_ -" she snapped her fingers, "...we were overrun. Salem was terribly injured trying to wrangle the damn thing, almost died. I guess, for me, that made it too real. I couldn't handle the risk. I came back home and tried to forget about it, which I managed well enough, until a few weeks after that when Gee-Gee contacted me to tell me Salem had died in Menagerie. That was the last time we spoke until just the other day."

Jaune inhales and exhales, his mind still working to process all of that. "What did she want?"

Gypsy sighs, seeming tired, "She asked about the stories again, the Old ones, seeing if I might know something she didn't or heard something she hadn't. Qrow had brought her some...disturbing information and just...I guess she was reaching out for anything she could if for no other reason to than for some peace of mind. Unfortunately, I couldn't give it to her."

"What did Qrow tell her?" Billy tries gently, a single sable brow raised.

"She went on about a _human_ Grimm, worse yet a Grimm with a _Semblance_."

Jaune and Billy look at each other. "Have _you_ ever heard of anything like that before?" Billy waits, thoroughly shocked when the rabbit faunus nods. " _Really_?"

"Once from my great grandmother on my father's side. I didn't think much of it at the time because everyone in West Shore was convinced she was senile, but I still listened. Supposedly Grimm were born from humans, and the first one was most like us. That Grimm birthed the Old Ones, and so on, so on. Not much to the tale other than that."

"I think it's safe to say _that_ wasn't the creature we encountered, else we'd likely be dead." Billy chuckles, a bit of bitterness in the sound. "I believe it was the Lion, only somehow it has been...bound inside a human body."

"It would have to be more than just a human form if it has a Semblance. I mean," she shakes her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, "I've seen a King Taijitu charm a man to walk right into its mouth, though that's hardly the same thing." Then she laughs a little, seemingly to herself. "As I heard my papa say, magic is sketch as hell...but _possession_?"

"At this rate I don't think we can write off anything as impossible. Only unlikely."

"The worst part of that is I've been thinking the same thing." Gypsy tucks her chin and rubs her eyes, a low groan moving quietly out of her. When she raises her head again she's looking across the table, trying to catch her son's wondering eyes. "Honey? You okay?"

"I'm just...I'm trying. It's a lot and it seems to just...keep coming at me, you know?"

"Can I do anything for you?"

"No. I think I may just be a little slow this morning." he tries to smile but fails. "Though I have a question."

"Of course." she reaches out and takes his hand again.

"What's my aunt's real name?" Of all the nonsense and folklore that had been thrown at him so far today, _that_ is what has lingered in his mind the most heavily.

His mother seemed to share the sentiment, her face morphing to show some sort of disbelief. It's strong enough to make her fumble the initial attempt to respond. Even Billy is giving him a sideways glance over the question.

"Glynda," she finally answers, "and I think she took her father's surname."

"It's Glynda Goodwitch, isn't it?"

"...How did you know?"

"She was one of my professors at Beacon."

Gypsy's ears flit atop her head, her expression tightening. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't think you wanted to hear about all the times she had me in detention." and it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Some of the color leaves his face when he comprehends the way his mother looks at him.

She crosses her arms and leans back, bright blue eyes thinning. "And what was _my_ boy doing in detention?"

His jaw works but no sound emerges, his mind is scrambled, like a flock of birds fleeing their roost.

"With all due respect," Billy intervenes, wary and soft spoken, "I don't know what detention is, but I have a feeling it can wait a while longer. Unless, of course, it can't."

"No, no, you're right, I didn't mean to get side-tracked." Gypsy shoots Jaune a scathing glance, the young man recoiling. He's sure the get an earful later.

"We need to contact the others. I believe that should be made a priority." Billy continues. "With the way we were separated, we need to find a way to tell them we're all right."

Gypsy nods. "They said on the news for anyone with information to contact the nearest Atlesian outpost, particularly for those of us here in Vale -what with our communication issues, though the nearest one is two days away on horseback."

"What about Watership station? Don't Schnee Dust Company supply trains go through there?" Jaune asks.

"Last I remembered, yes." Gypsy nods.

"Well, they have to be able to contact the supplier, right? And that means they can reach Atlas, maybe even the company directly. If they can manage that," he looks at Billy, "we should be able to talk to Weiss."

"As in Weiss _Schnee_ ? _You_ know Weiss Schnee?" her mouth gapes.

"Yeah, I told you, didn't I?"

"I'm afraid not. But, that aside, Watership station is much closer. That's a trip we can make in less than a day."

"A better choice, especially if that creature is still following us." Billy nods. "And I would hope that we go soon. No doubt my Maiden is worried about me."

"Your what?" For a moment she stares at the other faunus, her mind perhaps needing an extra second to fully digest what they said. But before they can reiterate she holds up a hand, making them pause. "Just start from the beginning again, and I want to hear _everything_ this time."

Billy and Jaune look at each other, questions passing unspoken, more so felt, and then they face Gypsy again. They tell her everything, finally able to get it out, no detail overlooked or cast aside due to possible irrelevance. The intimate details behind the fall of Beacon, what they knew of Cinder and the other Maidens, and the creature that has been hunting them and its apparent ability to sway other Grimm to its whim is thrown up into the air like ashes on an updraft. The only question Gypsy has is in regards to Trixie's joke about Jaune being eaten -it had gotten around the house so quickly because Yumi loves running through the Warren at breakneck speed with all the latest family scuttlebutt. She didn't receive a verbal answer, but the looks on their faces were enough to satisfy her curiosity and make her sigh, sounding somewhat hopeless.

Gypsy shakes her head after a moment, her face unreadable. "What have you gotten yourself into, boy?"

Jaune can't look at her, but he feels every ounce of her gaze.

"No wonder you're having nightmares, you poor child."

His back straightens, his features stretching gently with mild surprise. "...L-like I said, it's stress."

"I disagree." Billy rumbles.

"Why?"

"Just a feeling."

"And you said so yourself, Jaune," Gypsy adds, "last night was some of the best sleep you've had in some time. Did you dream last night?"

He shrinks a little, his hands wringing together under the table. "N-no."

"At all?"

"No." he repeats. "What difference does it make?" He's shocked when his mother doesn't have an answer waiting, but he watches her face and can clearly see that she's mulling over something. Mother's intuition maybe; then again, going from frequent nightmares to nothing at all -when put like that- did seem a touch out of place.

"Don't sass me," she says finally, sounding more habitual than chastising. She rises from the table, stretching. "I'll give you time to think it over, until then go get dressed. I'll have Lola hitch up the horses."

He didn't even think about it, Jaune just gets up and starts away from the table with "Yes, mom."

Once the human is out of the room, Billy rises as well, both big hands bracing atop the table as they work their legs over the bench. "Could I ask you something?"

"Of course." a curt nod, Gypsy's arms crossing again.

"My Maiden marked me,"

"You mean a hex?"

"A what?"

"That's what my papa called it. Witches can do it too."

"I suppose so, then. The point is that it disappeared."

"Ah." she nods again, unsurprised. "Ley Lines converge under the house."

"Come again?"

"I'll explain later, if it's all the same to you. I have to change."

"Of course, my apologies."

"None needed. And you might want to see if we have anything bigger for you to wear. You're a sneeze away from being naked."

Billy just laughs.

 

Jaune is changing in his room when he hears the unmistakeable, muted thumping of someone climbing the ladder. He quickly pulls up a less tattered pair of jeans as rabbit ears and curly blonde hair appears in the opening.

"You need to let me know when you're coming up here, Yumi."

"I've seen you nakey before, it's no big deal." the little girl brushes off as she scrambles across the floor and flings herself onto his bed. She gathers herself up in the middle and sits, legs out in front of her with her feet rolling back and forth. Her face is a curious pout. "Are you leaving again?"

"It's only for a little while, I promise."

"Where are you going?"

"Mom and I are going to the train station and then coming right back." He pulls a fresh shirt over his head, tucking it in before looking for his shoes. Once he's found them he sits heavily on the bed, his weight enough to make his little sister bounce.

For a moment Yumi just watches him before she crawls across the small space between them. She climbs onto his back, garnering a soft protest that she ultimately ignores. Perching on his shoulders she crosses her arms atop his head, leaning forward to continue watching his hands work the laces of his shoes.

"Jaune?"

"Hm?"

"I wanna give you something," she shifts on his shoulders, searching her clothes. "I found it in the attic."

Jaune exhales, straightening. "Yumi, you know you're not supposed to go in the attic."

"Momma said she didn't want to _catch me_ in the attic, and she didn't." there is an almost adult smugness in the girl's tone. "So I'm not in trouble...you won't tattle on me, will you?"

He sighs, smiling as he turns his head to see her pouting again. "I won't tattle."

"Good." she hugs him with one arm, the other stuck down her shirt to find what she was looking for. It's a rather heavy pendant on a chain. Her little hands work the clasp open and she pulls it around the front of him to put around his neck. "You gotta wear it for good luck, okay?"

"Okay." and he's more than happy to comply, at least until he gets a better look at it. The pendant is elliptic, looking to be made of silver and ebony -or at least cheaper materials meticulously crafted to appear as such. Sitting on the pitch blackness is a pristine, bleached rat skull. His smile wavers a little with mild disgust, but he holds on to the expression.

"Promise?"

"Sure, I promise." though his first instinct is to take it off, or at least wait for the first chance to do so that she won't see. For now, though, he tucks it into his shirt. "Thanks." and he kisses her nose, his smile widening at her laughter.

With a little reluctance he pries Yumi from his back and stands, fetching his armor and slipping it on along with Crocea Mors. She hurries down the ladder in front of him, waiting at the bottom so she can latch onto his leg, forcing him to carry her down the hallway and into the den. Billy is already waiting, having exchanged the constrictive t-shirt with one of Gypsy's blouses; it offered _so much_ more room, never mind the low neckline that left a portion of their binder exposed. And they appear to now be wearing a pair of Nessa's shorts. An odd match, but the bison faunus is content. When Gypsy emerges she's adjusting a leather corset, trying to work the last of the metal clasps in the front of it together. She's given up her skirt for loose fitting pants that only reach as far as the knee and has removed her rings -save for her wedding band- and necklaces. Now she wears a leather holster cradling a pair of revolvers and a belt full of ammo. "Everyone ready?" and when she receives nods from both of them she gestures towards the door.

Lola is just outside with her four assistant corgis -Est, Vest, Nord, and Svengoolie- sitting in perfect rank and file at her feet. The reins for two horses rest in her hand, one of the animals visibly stockier than the other. After kissing her daughter's cheek in gratitude, Gypsy pulls herself into the saddle of the smaller horse, a female blood bay she calls Missy. Once she's settled and Jaune has pulled free of Yumi's grip, she offers her son a hand up, letting him sit behind her with his arms reflexively around her waist.

Billy stands before the other horse, looking it over. "I've never ridden one of these before."

Lola chuckles. "Just make sure the head is facing forward and hold on tight."

"Can it even hold me?"

"Oh come now, you can't be that big," Lola puts a hand on Billy's back, her amusement morphing a little. "... _Well then_...but I'm sure Sasquatch can manage you well enough. Just put your foot in the stirrup,"

"The what?"

"The metal loop near his belly."

"Ah, now I just...step up?"

"Basically."

It takes a couple tries, the horse fidgeting at their awkward attempts. "Now what?"

"Take these," Lola hands the reins off to them. "Just pull in the direction you want to go, and not too hard, he doesn't like heavy hands. When you want him to stop, pull both of the reins back."

"How do I make him...go?"

"Just push on his belly with your heels. Again, not too hard or he'll throw you."

"And that would be bad?"

" _Very_ bad." she nods with a little laugh. "Have a safe trip, you three."

"We'll be back by supper, and you lot mind your father, hear?"

"Yes, momma." Lola and Yumi answer in unison.

Gypsy offers up one last nod before giving Missy a firm kick and snapping her reins, setting the horse into a healthy clip down the gravel road. It takes a little work, Sasquatch making two complete circles in place, but Billy eventually brings up the rear. They follow the road almost to Underbrush, making a southward turn at the crossroads for Watership station.

 

Among the hills outside the little town, Manticore stirs. The distant sensation of a familiar aura washes over its sleeping form, the small hairs on its host's body bristling. At first it stands up, taking several steps as if to lean into a full sprint, but stops. Something is different now. That bright swell of energy that had led it all the way here is being dwarfed, almost consumed by something _much_ bigger, something strong enough to stimulate even the weak wariness of its host.

The Grimm takes a moment to think -as much as a Grimm _can_ think. The closer it had drawn to the human settlement beyond the hill, the more it felt the energy of the place change, even begin to push _against_ it. Throughout the night it had stalked the town's borders, looking for a way around or through the unseen resistance. All it found was that the further west it moved -the closer it came to the Warren, the stronger the repulsion became.

And now this, a life force so large it almost felt afraid. Almost.

In the end it chooses to follow, but not with the intention of hunting. It had to find out who was giving off this incredible aura, had to find out why it felt something like fear when it shouldn't be able to feel anything at all.

 

At the same moment, near Mistral's western coast, Cinder is an hour in to one of the deepest post-coital slumbers she's ever had. Neo had been in rare form the night before and it left the Fall Maiden comfortably taxed. But as deep as she sleeps, her eyes still snap open as if she had been faking it. The molten gold of her irises flares brightly, almost illuminating the still dark room of the inn. She sits up, one fluid motion, the look on her face something between curious surprise and steadily mounting anticipation. She feels a pitching heat gathering in her chest, a little flame swelling bigger and bigger, making her breath quicken. It's reaching for something, hungry for it.

She knows what it wants.

Somehow Cinder knows -can _feel_ \- that her focus has been found. Faster than she ever has, she scrambles out of bed in search of her clothes.

 

_(II)_

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Inhale. Exhale. Flex. Release.

Blake had been a faithful practitioner of meditation long before she came into her powers, so having it as a core element of Glynda's tutelage had been almost comforting -a welcome familiarity to offset her life's recent run-in with outlandish chance.

 _In. Out._ She focuses on the sound of her own breathing, the steady rhythm of her own heart, letting it drown out everything else; men walking the deck above her and along the wooden pier outside, voices, the lapping of the tide against the mortar of the harbor's foundation. The sounds begin to blend together, become static, her felid ears no longer instinctively try to track each little thing.

 _Flex. Release._ She draws her aura up into her chest. What had once been a quiet blossom of dark flame has become more substantial, a roiling sphere of heat and darkness that growls with power. She lets its warmth fill her from head to toe, and then lets it go, pushing it back down when she exhales -she feels the heat of it on her breath. This seemingly simple exercise has allowed her to grow more familiar with the new energy flowing through her, to become accustomed to its weight and depth and its innate compulsion to _expand_.

Glynda had described the nature of Summer in several ways. Summer is the season of growth, maturity, the season that takes everything Spring restored and brought into being and lets it thrive, flourish. It's the time of coming into one's self, of reaching for and growing passed one's limits. Not so much the season of life as it is the season of _living_. With that being the case, Glynda couldn't stress enough the amount of discipline she thought was needed to keep the magic in check; an inclination she formulated after years of watching Raven shoulder the burden. However her former professor had been uncharacteristically generous in saying that while Raven had been an exceptional case in regards to her abilities, Blake showed just as much potential.

_If Glynda has faith in me, why shouldn't I?_

Because she can't say the same for the people she cares about most. And it's as this thought crosses her mind that her focus wavers. The shadowy flame at her core diminishes, fluxes, and sputters out, her concentration broken. Her eyelids part gently, allowing the pitch pupils to adjust to the light, flickers of crimson and gold piercing between dusky lashes as she looks around this sequestered space in the ship's hold. Blake takes a slow breath, partly cleansing, partly anxious. By day after tomorrow, give or take, she and Qrow would be in Atlas. They would be in Atlas and Blake would finally have to answer for...well, everything.

Her knee-jerk cynicism tells her it will all be exactly as she expects. She has already accepted that things will never be the same between them; the comfort and quiet love they had for one another was never coming back, not after what she did to them. Never mind all the things they didn't know about. They might allow her back into the fold, maybe even say they're happy to see her and are glad she's all right, then she'll see the look in their eyes that says everything they won't. She'll see the hesitation, the damaged trust, she'll see _we need you,_ not _we want you_. In a way, the thought of facing that hurts her more than the prospect of outright rejection. Rejection is something she knows how to process and live with.

_You're a Maiden now, that's bigger than any hurt feelings..._

Another breath shakes through her, her ears easing back on the exhale. Blake's uneasy thoughts flicker to Qrow and what he said back at Glynda's manor. This inevitably leads her to think of Raven and the brevity of her memory -Blake still can't remember a majority of their encounter. But lingering on Raven stirs up other things, things she fully expects but can't stop from surfacing in her mind's eye.

Lavender and gold. Fire and blood. Powerful hands that could just as easily -just as willingly- put you through a wall as they could pat you on the back. A heart the size of all four kingdoms combined and the warmth of a small sun. Warmth that she had once basked in but now recoiled from the mere thought of.

 _Yang_.

Her partner's name rings in her mind like somber church bells, dark and heavy. Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth to keep herself from saying it aloud because she feels she doesn't have the right. Yang had saved her life, without hesitation and at an incredible cost. Then, once Blake saw the chance, she disappeared into the night, stealing herself away along with the purpose of Yang's sacrifice.

Running away is no way of showing gratitude or lo-

_You had no other choice. It was your only option._

Maybe. Maybe not. Point is, it was the choice she made, and her reasoning behind it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter nearly as much as the consequences, consequences she herself isn't fully aware of. Qrow had not been forthcoming by any stretch of the imagination in regards to Yang or her other teammates, saying little more than _they're all right._ But it always sounded so loaded, like something she wasn't meant to fully believe from the get-go.

Regardless, she is going to find out the nature of things. She just wishes she had more to work with.

Blake gathers herself together again a little at a time, tries to ease herself back into that comfortable static in order to recenter her focus with a series of full, rhythmic breaths. Her eyes close, her ears settle, and she begins to feel the renewed heat of her aura in her chest. Each stable exhale makes it flare and swell, and it fills her up again. This time, however, the violet and sable flame is rimmed in flickers of gold.

 

 

Author's Note:  I'm trying to break away from short chapters, but meh, what can you do? It is how it's meant to be and that's the most I can do to explain it. I know the little bit with Blake wasn't much, but it's mostly to prep you guys for when she comes back full time -which is on the way, I swear. Sections concerning Jaune an his family will be more interspersed now, what with the bulk of it now out in the open. I'm going to make an honest effort to switch between the golden girls and Jaune in something resembling equal measure in the upcoming chapters, seeing as most of it will be made of character building and fence mending. Here's hoping it works out. All the reviews and kudos are super helpful, so keep them coming even if it's just to say hi or offer up a pat on the back.

 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Emerald and Mercury had left Cinder at the inn and headed west for the nearest port of call. At the very least the next northbound ship would take them either to Vale or north Mistral, where they would be much more likely to hitch a ride to Atlas. They've propped themselves against a wall of wooden and steel crates, arms crossed and postures tight against the chilled ocean breezes, waiting for their boat to arrive.

He had been feeling it for days. At least, feeling it in a way that he notices. Mercury had picked up on faint traces of it since...god, he can't really remember. All he knows for sure is that this isn't a new thing. His dark, steely eyes move from his feet to the pair next to him, rising only as high as Emerald's stomach before they fall again. It's coming from her, a certain uneasiness that buzzes against his aura. A part of him knows what it's about, a part of him has no desire or need for an explanation. But there's another part of him that simply can't understand what the hell her malfunction is.

Getting slapped around by Cinder had to be a hell of a lot easier to stomach than whatever Emerald had to put up with before. Not that he could say so from personal experience.

"So what was it?"

"Hm?" the sounds comes from her after a long moment.

"What changed your mind?" Maybe he was just asking for the sake of it, maybe part of him needed to hear it straight from her.

Emerald doesn't move, no flicker of emotion moves her face or eyes.

"You could run." he says flatly.

"She would find me." then one hand unfolds from the twining of her arms and moves to cup the back of her neck. No doubt feeling over the chess piece marking there.

He lilts his head, inches his shoulders. "Sure she would. Once she started looking, anyway."

"I wouldn't be able to get far."

Maybe. Maybe not. He looks at her for a moment, watches as a brief gust of wind pushes her hair around her face.

"I'm not a murderer, Mercury."

"I know." he replies simply.

"That's what this has turned into."

"I know." now he laughs a little. "You're a thief, Em, that's what you are and you're good at it." he watches as Emerald rubs her arms, tipping back her head as a breath comes out in a huff. "I guess that's the difference between you and the rest of us."

"What, that I don't like killing?" the question is hooded with disgust.

"Well, I don't _like it_ either," he pauses, thinking, "but I don't hate it. And I'm willing to guess Cinder doesn't either...and _Neo_ -god damn." he laughs again, shaking his head.

"I thought she cared about us, Mercury." _Cared about_ me _._ But then she remembers the dry pinch of pain -at least the memory of it- in her face, the thick heaviness of Cinder's knuckle against her cheekbone, the bruises on her jaw when the Fall Maiden bestowed her mark.

"Yeah. Me too." he exhales. "I guess she does, to a point -a _fine_ point- but...you know." Mercury never had anyone to really give a damn about him, so this situation is hardly anything new.

Emerald buzzes her lips. "Tell me you're kidding. You know she's just using us at this point."

"Sure I do." _And I know how much you don't want to believe it._ "But that's how people like us operate, we _use_ each other, it's how we survive." and he gestures aimlessly with one hand, trying for some form of emphasis. "I see where you're coming from, though. I get it."

They're quiet for a spell, though their thoughts are not. Mercury looks up, straight out into nothing, out over the sea and the horizon. His brow lowers and he takes a deep breath, exhaling like it's a chore. "Look,"

Emerald lifts her head.

"I'm gonna take a walk, might take a minute at the dock house while I'm at it 'cause I have to take a leak." he almost laughs again when she frowns. "...I don't expect you to still be here when I get back, okay?"

"Mercury,"

"It'll be easier for me to sell a lie if it's a half truth, so, you know," he straightens, rocking on his heels briefly, "but just this once. Don't worry, you'll have time to think about it. I won't hold it against you either way."

And just like that, he strolls away with only a passing glance and a nod, moving through the stacks of crates and palettes until she can no longer see him. For a moment she just stands there, shock pulling her features and disbelief thinning her vermillion gaze. Once her mind comprehends that she's alone - _really_ alone- other thoughts began to manically pace through it.

Mercury does just as he said he would. He walks along the pier, drifting towards the little town that keeps it, but never goes too far back the way he came or to an area that he might be able to catch a glimpse of her; if she does make a break for it he doesn't want to know which way. He ducks into the dock house, tipping his chin to the harbormaster as he turns a corner in search of the facilities. He intentionally takes his time, going so far as to wash his hands for almost two full minutes before going back outside.

He lingers only a little longer, just until he spots an incoming ship from the northwest -likely the one he's meant to board. His pace is slow, calculating, more like loitering than anything else, but it eventually takes him back to where he started. Part of him sinks, a little brick in his gut that settles steadily deeper. Another part of him is relieved.

Emerald is gone.

 

_(II)_

It's mid afternoon in Atlas, though with the first day of winter around the corner, the sky burns orange as if it's evening. In about a month or so the sun will disappear, not to be seen again for several weeks.

Weiss steps through the front door of the manor with a shrug of relief, shaking herself to remove a touch of the cold as well as some of the snow on her coat. The weather had been steadily worsening since late this morning, and by the time the board had recessed for lunch, the weather reporter on her scroll was already cautioning listeners to prepare for adverse conditions as the day progressed. As she hands her coat off to Klein she smiles, a somewhat irrelevant fancy crossing her mind; Ruby would probably like to see everything covered in snow come the morning. Maybe they could go for a walk together...

"Miss Schnee, I've taken the liberty of having a pot of coffee prepared, it's waiting in your room."

"Thank you, Klein." she says, pleasantly surprised. "Is Winter home yet?"

"She and Specialist Holiday are on their way from the hospital at this very moment."

A curt, satisfied nod. "Has it been quiet like this all day?"

"Yes, miss. Mostly."

"Mostly?" one pale brow rises, a hint of trepidation on her face.

"Nothing to worry yourself over, miss, I promise." he chuckles softly. "Welcome home."

She thanks him again before continuing on through the house, making her way upstairs and to her room. Weiss can clearly feel everyone's presence as she passes their rooms; she's been making a conscious effort to open herself up and be more aware of all the different energy around her, to be able to suss out what's what and who's who. So far she has managed to train herself to associate each person with a color or some other mental image that's triggered by the sensation their life force offers.

Yang's is bright, heated, and always in flux but not in an abrasive way, at least not usually. Yesterday evening her mood took a bad turn, making Weiss feel something like sparks popping under her skin, but it seems to have eased now. Ren and Nora's has been blurred for the last couple days, since they arrived in Atlas actually. It moves across her own aura as a weighted coolness, like a morning fog, leaving her to only speculate what they would feel like once their...depression passes. If it passes.

Ruby's is unmistakeable and Weiss can feel it from anywhere in the house, though she has yet to train herself to discern her partner's exact location -though she  _feels_ close in relation to her sister. It's crimson and sable, silk and plush fur, rose petals and steel. The warmth and security she has often found when holding Ruby's hand she can now partake of any time, so long as their proximity is close enough. Just thinking about it brings a touch of heat to her cheeks.

Weiss pushes her way into her room, quickly and happily stepping out of her heels before moving to her bed where she drops her scroll. From there she moves to the wardrobe, more than ready to get into something more comfortable.

She can feel Tag's aura as she changes and makes her coffee, ripples of energy that vary in strength and duration. It's unstable, abradant, and sways Weiss with a wave of anxiety. She had first noticed it last night on her way to bed, when it had been strong enough to stop her in her tracks outside the faunus' guestroom door. She hadn't even knocked before barging in on her to see what was wrong, an imposing action that the heiress  _still_ cringes over -she had been raised  _so_ much better than to do that. Regardless, in the short week since she had met Tag, she had never seen her so upset. 

The Spring Maiden had paced and anxiously sniffled most of the night, the short pile pelt of her tail bottle-brushed as she chewed on her nails. She didn't know what to do, how to process the sudden swelling of the frigid isolation she had been feeling since she and her Guardian had been separated. She couldn't feel the magical tether that had kept her grounded, kept her stable, and now the faunus is in emotional free-fall. To Weiss it was almost dizzying, enough to make her wonder how she had been able to sleep through it. Maybe it had been her own magic unconsciously walling her off from anything that might distract her from meeting her body and mind's needs. Who's to say.

_I should check on her._ She thinks, sipping her coffee, the warmth and full-bodied flavor enough to make her eyes almost roll back and momentarily stifle the idea. She has to consciously tell herself to stay focused, to make herself put the cup down and pick up her scroll again. For the hundredth time she checks it, frowning gently at finding no new messages. God, it's been nearly three days...

Back out into the hallway her concentration is broken by a warning that she more so reacts to than understands, her body leaning aside at the waist to narrowly avoid the pillow that flies towards her. The next thing she comprehends is Ruby running towards her, barefoot and still in her new pajamas that look suspiciously like her old ones, apologies tumbling out of her mouth. Weiss can see Yang over Ruby's shoulder, red faced with another pillow clutched in her hand.

"Sorry," comes Ruby's final apology as she comes to stand in front of her partner. "We were just fooling around. Don't worry, we didn't break anything."

"Nothing expensive, anyway." Yang adds.

" _Everything_ in this house is expensive." Weiss tries not to smirk. Truth be told she didn't care, material things have been the farthest thing from her mind for weeks. "Yang, I got a confirmation call from the clinic, did you?"

"I haven't checked my scroll today, so maybe I have." Yang inches her shoulders, flippant.

"Well, on the off chance you didn't, your check-in at the hospital is at six the day after tomorrow."

"AM or PM?"

"AM."

Yang tips back her head, her knees bending to make her entire form appear to sag, and lets loose a chesty groan. "Do I have to fast again?"

"No, you can eat before we go, just no caffeine."

" _God_ ," she groans again, the pillow in her hand slapping against her leg, "I can't wait for all this to be over. When I'm out of the hospital I fully intend to misbehave bad enough to ruin  _your_ reputation."

"You can try." Weiss smiles fully, smug. Then her attention moves from Yang back to Ruby. "Everything all right while I was gone, or at least the same?"

"I guess so." Ruby nods, her eyes on the floor, her chin tucked momentarily.

Weiss tilts her head, trying to catch Ruby's attention. "Are you okay?"

Ruby's head snaps up again and she smiles, rocking on her heels a little. "Yeah, I'm good. You look tired, rough day at the office?"

Weiss chuckles behind her hand, finding that particular choice of words genuinely amusing. Though, by the sideways look she spies on Ruby's face her partner isn't so sure as to what's so funny about it. Weiss thinks the expression beautifully innocent. Or maybe just beautiful; that thought makes her clear her throat and try to suppress the gentle heat reaching up into her face.

"It wasn't so bad." she replies. "Has anyone seen Tag yet today?"

"I think I saw her earlier, just kind of wandering around." Ruby scratches the back of her head absently. "She isn't okay, is she?"

"I'd imagine not. I was thinking about looking in on her."

"Should I come with you or," her hands fuss in front of her for a moment, "is this a Maiden thing?"

Weiss appears to think a moment, eventually nodding. "Maybe the company would do her some good."

"I'm going to try and call dad again, Ruby." Yang offers up, starting to shuffle back into her room.

"If you reach him tell him I said hi."

"And myself as well, please." Weiss adds quickly before the blonde brawler disappears, to which she receives an awkward wave.

 

Yang pushes the door to the frame -not quite forceful enough to close it, but not really caring- before flopping face down on the bed. For a moment she's still, somewhat liking how muted the world has become with her face buried in the tussled linens. Eventually she lifts her head and props her chin on a pillow, reaching with her hand to fish for her scroll. When she grasps it from beneath the blanket and pulls it free she just stares at its silent face, even passed it to her own faint reflection. She had tried several times over the last couple days to reach her father with no success. Why she thought that would suddenly change now is beyond her.

With practiced strokes of her thumb she files through a nest of contacts until she finds Taiyang's, tapping his picture. She waits, watching the spinning circular icon on the screen as the device tries to connect. It fails. She tries again. She'll try a total of three times, reaching her father just before she taps the  _disconnect_ icon.

_"Taiyang speaking,"_

"Hey, daddy."

A sigh of relief carries across the line, audible among the static of an uneasy connection.  _"Oh my god, Yang, thank goodness. I was so worried."_

"Come on, Ruby and I have only been gone for -what- a week?"

_"I know, but I saw the news,"_

"Hm?"

_"Grimm took down an Atlesian craft off the north coast, I couldn't help but think the worst had happened."_

Yang smiled to herself as she rolls onto her back. "Well...almost."

_"Almost?"_ his dismay at her response is audible, then there's a shrug.  _"...Are you and Ruby okay?"_

"We're fine, really. We made it to Atlas in one piece."  _Mostly._

_"Good. Good."_ though he sounded only marginally relaxed.  _"Any leads on the kid who went missing?"_

"Nothing yet." A part of her feels like she should have sounded - _felt_ \- more concerned. "Weiss has Ironwood running that outfit, so maybe we'll hear something soon."

_"Well, for what it's worth, here's hoping."_ a little laugh drifts over the line.  _"How are you holding up?"_

"I'm okay." it's a compulsory response. She doubles back, not meaning to cut off the first sounds of whatever her father was going to say. "...I'm scared."

_"What's wrong, honey?"_

"My surgery is in a couple days. Guess I'm just...anxious."

 _"There's nothing wrong with that."_ he sounds so certain. _"What you're feeling is perfectly normal."_

 _What does perfectly normal feel like, again?_ "I guess so."

_"I'm sure everything will turn out. Some of the best doctors in the world practice in Atlas, and with your friend being a Schnee and all, I'm sure-"_

"Yeah, I know. I guess I'm just being a little bitch about it."

 _"Don't say that."_ the demand is half broken up by a wave of static. _"Don't berate yourself for how you feel. We've talked about this,"_

"I know."

 _"Your feelings are yours, let yourself have them."_ Because he knows. He knows his daughter is bright and beautiful and strong, and she doesn't want anyone to think otherwise. Yang flourished on taking care of others, of having them rely on her; the last thing she wanted was for anyone to think her too weak to do that. She didn't know how not to be able to take the hit for someone. _"No matter what, you're still going to be Ruby's big sister, and you'll still be my little dragon. And both of us will always need you."_

Yang smiles, a huff of air working between her teeth. "Thanks, dad."

_"You don't even have to go through with this if you don't want to, Yang. I don't want you doing this for anyone other than yourself."_

"I know." she sighs again "And I'm not. This is right for me." _I certainly hope it is._

_"...I hope you're not expecting this to make everything better, honey,"_

"No, no," she shakes her head, golden curls twisting against the sheets, "it's not about that. But I think it'll help me get there. Once I'm certain I'm not a useless cripple, I'll be able to deal with the other stuff." _Like my wayward partner, or how sometimes I'm starved for attention while at other times I want to snap the neck of the next person who even looks in my general direction. Maybe I should start with how sometimes touching someone makes me sick, even if it's Ruby or Weiss._

_"Yang, you've never been-"_

"I know, but it's like they say, you're your own worst critic, right?" another little laugh. "It's really good to hear your voice, dad. I never asked how you've been."

A seemingly weary exhale carries over the line. _"I'm all right. Just worrying about you kids like always."_ Then a quiet chuckle. _"Zwei is worried about you too."_

"Oh, poor boy." Yang pouts to herself.

_"I hear they're almost finished with the repairs on the Communications Tower, so maybe Vale will be able to reach out and touch the rest of the world soon."_

"That's great, you'll have to be sure to call when it's back online."

_"Don't worry, I will. I really do miss you girls."_

"Miss you too."

_"So when's your procedure?"_

"Day after tomorrow, early. I'll be in the hospital for about a week and then they say I can come back to the manor for the rest of my recovery."

 _"That sounds like a good setup."_ Yang can almost hear her father nodding. _"I guess they'll send someone to check on you?"_

"I guess. Here's hoping she's cute."

 _"_ That _always helps the medicine go down, doesn't it? I'll bet you five Lien she's a redhead."_

"I dunno, I'm partial to sables myself."

 _"I knew my daughter had good taste._ " he laughs.

Yang smiles to herself as she stares at the ceiling. As her jaw works to form more words Yang pauses, waiting for the sudden surge of static to pass again. She can hear fractured fragments of her father's voice trying to muscle through the noise to no avail. Her golden brows see-saw as she swears she can hear military radio chatter.

"Dad? You still there?" just more static with little burps of sound. "Dad? Hey, dad, if you can hear me, I love you. I'm sure you love me too and I'll pass it on to Ruby for you. Stay safe, okay? And I'll try to do the same." she hopes Taiyang had heard her as she hangs up, feeling only marginally guilty in doing so.

 

Down the hall, Weiss and Ruby have cautiously pushed their heads through the meager opening of Tag's bedroom door. At first glance there's no trace of the faunus, then there's a dark flicker in the nest of blankets and pillows atop the bed, the wayward twitch of the otter's tail. Unsure as to whether she was asleep or awake, the two step quietly into the room. Weiss stops halfway through her second step, cringing when she realizes her scroll is buzzing.

"Go ahead," she whispers as quietly as possible, encouraging Ruby with a small gesture of her hand. "I have to take this."

Ruby just nods as she ducks back out into the hallway, watching her disappear with a touch of longing on her face. Ruby inches her shoulders with a little sigh as she starts towards the bed. She has to stretch to see over the barrier of blankets, to see the rest of Tag laying there, her body stretching comfortably from one lip of the nest to the other. She appears to be asleep, her hands folded on her stomach, head tipped back and her eyes closed. Though something...

Ruby cocks her head as she props herself on the edge of the mattress, balancing there to look a little closer. She feels a slow and small pulse of aura, slower than a heartbeat or the ticking of a clock, and it coincides with the unnaturally languid rise and fall of Tag's chest. In spite of that the Spring Maiden appeared to have full color and life in her face, nothing seemed otherwise amiss. Taking a chance, Ruby reaches for her, feeling the gentle tingle of static as her fingertips draw closer to Tag's skin.

"Hey," she whispers, earning no response even after she touches Tag's upper arm. "You okay?" Then she tries a little shake.

It takes a moment, but Tag's chest slowly swells to full capacity, the pulse of aura turning into a warm, steady wave. Ruby draws back and continues to watch, feeling the energy in the room shifting around her just before the faunus' eyes open. There's a bright green glint in the dark irises that quickly fades as they settle on Ruby.

"Oh. It's you." Tag blinks, her brows rising with surprise. "Is something wrong?"

Ruby smiles like it's a reflex, though its far from disingenuous. "No, everything's fine. Just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Oh." she says again, nodding slowly. She stretches, arms above her head with her hands in tight fists, her toes and tail pointing in the opposite direction. "I'm fine, thank you."

Ruby shifts to sit on the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Tag smiles back as she settles, laying there for only a moment longer before sitting up, her tail curling to rest in her lap. "I wasn't sleeping."

Ruby's face stretches, her brow knitting in the middle. "But...you were,"

Tag laughs softly. "As big as this place is, it feels a little confining to me."

"Is that why you were walking around earlier?"

"...You saw me?"

"Yeah." Ruby nods, seemingly puzzled by the question. "What? Wasn't I supposed to?"

"It's not that," Tag recovers, clearing her throat and grabbing the end of her tail to fuss with. "Just...maybe I sleep walk and didn't know it. I've been here for hours."

"Hm, maybe so. I've heard of that happening when people get stressed out enough. I guess you're pretty stressed."

Tag offers up a little sigh. "I don't mean to worry anyone."

"It's okay, we've got to look after each other, right?"

"Right." the faunus smiles a little, nodding. "Has there been any news yet?"

Ruby doesn't want to, reluctance flickering across her features, but she shakes her head. "Sorry."

Tag takes a breath, her cheeks puffing on the exhale as she pushes a hand through her hair. Anxiety rattles through her, fresh and unsettling. Ruby watches her, senses the distress in a shaky ripple against her aura, empathy blossoming in her heart.

"Can I do anything? You...want a hug?"

The faunus laughs, a punctuated and half-hearted sound. It's the way one laughs when they're trying to keep it together and failing, when you've run out of ideas on how to make things work like you think they should. It's the prelude to a breakdown. But Tag couldn't let herself do that, she is a Maiden after all. So instead of letting the tears come, instead of letting the sob trapped in her chest escape, she forces herself to nod as she climbs out of the nest and settles on the edge of the bed. She gathers up the younger human before the girl can even open her arms and holds her tight, a little squeak erupting. It's the first bit of physical contact she's had in what feels like forever, and she just can't help herself as she nuzzles her cheek against Ruby's hair.

"There, isn't that better?" Ruby wheezes, resisting the urge try and wedge away from Tag's enthusiastic grip.

Tag emits a pleased, comforted hum. "Should you ever become the wolf I'll have to do this again." she giggles. "I bet your fur is so _soft_."

"As sweet as that is, I need to breathe,"

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

Just as Tag releases her hold, Weiss is stepping into the room, one hand keeping her scroll to her ear. "...Yes, please. I'm handing it off right now. Thank you."

Tag and Ruby watch her quickly cross the floor. Once she's close enough she offers her scroll to the faunus, who just looks at the device and then up at Weiss a few times, uncertain.

"Take it," she insists gently, "I don't know how long the signal will hold."

Tag cocks her head as she picks up the device, unfamiliar with the feel of it. Still looking at Weiss with curious hesitation she puts the scroll to her ear, chancing to speak into it like she had seen so many others do. "H-hello?"

 _"My Maiden,_ "

"Nature's grace," Tag half collapses into herself, elbows propping on her knees and her face falling into her free hand, "goodness, you're all right." She can already feel the tears coming and she has no intention of fighting them.

A little laugh rumbles through the connection with a touch of static. _"I'm sorry, I know you were worried."_

"What happened to you? Where are you?"

_"That...is an...interesting story, one that can wait. But they call this kingdom Vale, I'm to the south of you. Jaune is with me and we are with his family."_

An exhale of relief. "What about my mark?"

_"Something about this place...I don't know what it is, but the boy's mother has offered to explain it. Rest assured we're safe, even Grimm don't seem to come to this area often."_

Tag's eyes move from the floor as she straightens, settling on Weiss again. "We can come and get you, can't we?"

_"Jaune has elected we stay for now, likely until whatever is meant to be done in Atlas is done. The boy needs time, he says, to -how did he put it- get his shit together."_

"W-well," she sputters, "couldn't he do that here with the rest of us?"

_"I don't fully understand his reasoning -he explained it better while he spoke with the small Maiden- but I understand the cause. If he is to continue along this path of ours, he needs to find the certainty to do so. His pack mates deserve that."_

"When you put it like that," she nods to herself, half wincing at a sudden riot of static in her ear. "Makes sense."

_"Are you and the others all right?"_

"We're fine. It's so cold here, been snowing off and on for the last couple days."

_"It's growing colder here as well, no snow yet, though."_

"I miss you." she confesses abruptly. "It's so good to hear your voice."

 _"I miss you too, but it's a little better knowing you're safe."_ Then Billy clears their throat. _"Any sign of the creature where you are?"_

Tag stiffens with a cock of her head. "N-no, nothing here. You?"

_"What's the matter?"_

"W-what do yo mean?"

_"There's something you haven't told me yet, likely something I wouldn't be too pleased to hear. Out with it."_

"...It's complicated."

 _"I still need to hear it._ Especially _if that thing is involved."_

Tag swallows, her free hand cupping the back of her neck. "This...it..." she has to stop as interference crackles out of the device. "...something is different."

_"We've established this already. That's hardly what I would call complicated,"_

The otter cringes. "It's just...I know how you are. I know you would much rather slay this thing and be done with it."

_"Naturally. We're hunters, it's what we do. Has that suddenly changed?"_

"In a way." she looks at Weiss again, maybe searching for some form of encouragement but finding none.

Billy shrugs. _"Stop being vague. It's better I hear it from you now than someone else later."_

"It's human." she blurts at last. "Something about it is alive." the silence that follows is almost suffocating. Her eyes move to Ruby, having felt the girl's gaze on her, and finds her making a face likely similar to the one her Guardian is making -features pulled with confusion.

_"...You're certain?"_

"Fairly. I mean," her free hand searches for the end of her tail and grabs it, the tip curling around one finger. "I haven't...I didn't get a chance to touch it but...you _know_ it's next to impossible for me to mistake that for something else."

 _"I know."_ though they sound loathe to say so. _"...What is it you expect me to do? What if Jaune and I are attacked? There are children,"_

Tag cringes again, visibly harder this time.

_"And how did you not notice this before?"_

"I don't know, just...I picked up on it after Ruby used her silver magic on it. Perhaps that...I know you will do what you have to, but-"

 _"I understand. I'll do my best."_ Whatever they mean to say next breaks up, the white noise washing it out coupled with a high pitched whistle that makes Tag jerk the scroll away. Once it passes she puts it back to her ear.

"Are you still there?"

_"I am, but I fear this won't hold for much longer. Is there anything else I should know?"_

"I love you." she says immediately, like she'll never get another chance to. "I love you, Billy."

_"I love you too."_

"And I'm going to kiss you when I see you again. You're going to let me this time, understand?"

 _"As my Maiden wishes."_ Another low, chesty laugh, another wave of static. _"Be safe. Even if that means taking another Guardian. I won't be too jealous, I swear."_

"You be safe too, you old jerk." Tag laughs, sniffling. "...I don't want to say goodbye."

 _"It's not forever. We'll find each oth-"_ the signal breaks, the line going completely silent.

Tag will listen for a moment longer, holding out hope that maybe this device was supposed to behave this way, until she sighs and gives it back to Weiss. She swallows the fresh surge of discomfort and looks up to her. "Thank you for that."

"Of course." Weiss nods before looking down at the scroll, double checking the signal strength, considering trying again. No dice.

"Jaune and Billy are okay?" Ruby chances to ask, part of her possibly still in some form of cynical denial.

"By the sounds of it," Weiss smiles easily, putting the scroll back in her pocket. "The communications officer that routed the signal said it was coming from one of my company's supply depots in northern Vale, Watership station."

"But...we're not going to go get them?" Ruby's brow pulls steadily together in the middle, curious.

"Not today, anyway, but we know where they are and that they're relatively safe. Grimm activity in that region has been so low for so long, it's the main reason my father had the depot built there. They should be fine."

"So why aren't we...?"

Weiss' opalescent gaze settles on her partner. "Did Jaune ever talk to you about...how to put it...taking a step back from this? Not necessarily giving up, but,"

"Oh, yeah," she nods slowly, her curiosity turning into something resembling hurt. "Back in Sanctum."

"Then I believe he's chosen to take this opportunity to do just that. He's with his family, so maybe this is what he needs to...I don't know...pull himself together. Get back in the fight, so to speak."

Ruby nods again, a breath working through her. On the exhale her expression softens, she even smiles, now looking thoroughly relieved. "That's good to know." and that smile gets wider and wider, all of her usual happiness seeming to bubble upward from that place it had been hiding beneath the last few days' sadness. She giggles, "I'm going to go tell Ren and Nora. Oh, and Yang too!" and is then suddenly serious, pointing at the heiress. "And when I get back you two are going to explain this whole human-Grimm thing."

Ruby then jumps off the bed, arms up and out. Weiss expects Ruby to run right by her, but that isn't exactly what happens. Her once content smile morphs into shock as Ruby throws her arms around her shoulders, still giggling like a fool before planting a noisy and heavy kiss on Weiss' cheek. _Then_ she goes running out of the room, leaving Weiss to stand there, looking as if all of her thoughts had suddenly jumped the rails.

Tag crosses her arms and legs, smirking with amusement and watching as Weiss' face becomes redder and redder. She laughs reservedly when her fellow Maiden hides her face behind both hands and groans.

"Hush, you," comes Weiss' muffled protest.

"I can't help it, you're both so _cute_. I'm envious." And the faunus laughs again, suddenly able to shoulder the pain of her Guardian's absence a little more easily.

 

 

Author's Note: Hopefully the chapters will get a little less frivolous after this. Likely they will be formatted in chunks that occur over the course of no determined time frame, and regularly switch between our golden girls and the Warren. I'll make these scene changes plainly evident with numeric headers, so just keep an eye out and it should be fine. I probably won't touch on team Evil for a while, so apologies ahead of time. I hadn't intended to focus much on them to begin with, so I have to figure some shit out for them. Any suggestions in regards to how Mercury should try and fuck things up would be most helpful. In any case, thanks for everyone who reads and reviews, you guys are the shit.

 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

_5:15 AM._

Five. Fifteen. _AM_.

_Five. Fucking. Fifteen. AM._

Weiss had nagged her damn near all afternoon yesterday to set an alarm, and while the little, cranky voice in the back of Yang's mind had agreed to do so, she hadn't. She had even gone so far as to set her scroll on the nightstand with the intent to set one, but when she rolled into bed she just gave it a passing glance with a mental _nah_.

Though now she wished she had done that instead of having Weiss screeching at her -at least that's what it sounds like to her sleep addled brain- to get up. Yang tries just laying there, somewhat pretending rigor mortis with the hope that her visual acuity is based on motion like a T-Rex. But no. Not Weiss Schnee. Because even as Weiss grouses with empty threats, she rounds the bed with even, high-heeled strides to her side and yanks the blankets off, making the brawler recoil and shudder at the sudden loss of warmth. When she finally sits up it looks more like a mummy rising from its sarcophagus -stiff and groaning dryly- than a living person shouldering the burden of being awake.

Gathering the sufficient number of fucks to get her clothes on becomes significantly easier when Weiss tempts her with the promise of food. She chances to ask if she can just go in her pajamas, surprised when Weiss doesn't argue against it. "They'll have you change at the hospital anyway," the heiress sighs in passing. The two walk down to the dinning room together, Yang more so shuffling than actually walking.

Ruby is halfway into a pile of chocolate chip pancakes and a glass of milk, smiling as she greets them both with a little wave as her mouth is full. Weiss and Yang are surprised to see Nora beside her, half-upright, her head propped on one hand as she tries to eat her own flapjacks. They greet her as well, receiving a little grumble, electing not to press for more than that. Nora and Ren are still actively trying to shake off the depression, so they take what progress they can get.

Yang eats with no real hurry, knowing the ride to the hospital should only take ten or fifteen minutes at most. Likely less since traffic is non-existent at this hour. The smell of coffee all around her, watching Weiss drink it, makes her antsy -she can't decide if she wants that or a cigarette. All the while her mind buzzes quietly with little anxieties and stray notions. _How much is this going to hurt? Is this even going to work? What if I don't wake up..._

Lavender eyes stare blankly at a half-empty plate, static having settled in for a moment. She briefly massages her stump, not because it hurts but just because. She's starting to feel like she did ten months ago; emotionally deadened, mentally numb.

When the time comes the three of them get up from the table, leaving Nora to her solitary breakfast, and grab up their coats to leave the manor. A car is waiting outside, Weiss and Ruby hurrying to get out of the cold and snow, Yang taking her sweet time as being so hot-natured came with certain advantages. The other two girls half squash the brawler in the middle of the back seat, and though the unrequested physical contact makes her bristle, Yang accepts it anyway. Ruby tucks under her arm with a little shiver and Weiss seems content to sit shoulder to shoulder -or shoulder to bicep as the case may be, what with the heiress being shorter. The sky is still pitch dark when they arrive at the hospital and sign Yang in. They'll only have to wait a little while, maybe a half hour, but the entire time they sit Ruby has her hand in Yang's, their fingers loosely laced together. Occasionally they look and smile at one another, maybe both of them searching for a mote of comfort. Being touched still doesn't feel so good, but again, she accepts it for Ruby's sake.

Dr. Arcane will appear around six on the dot, having exchanged her usual semi-formal wear and white coat for turquoise surgical scrubs. She's calm and wears an easy smile, though her eyes look accurately tired for someone who has already been awake for several hours in preparation for surgery. She allows all three of the girls to follow her back, showing them to an empty exam room where Yang is meant to change into her own set of scrubs.

"Do you need any help?" Ruby offers, her and Weiss having their backs turned.

"I'm good, thanks." Yang yawns again as she twists out of her shirt. "You can put my hair up for me when I'm done, though." and she smiles to herself when Ruby makes a happy little squeak.

"Dr. Arcane said the procedure is due to last between thirteen and sixteen hours." Weiss parrots, sounding a little textbook as she goes. "I'm going to take Ruby back to the manor and then I'm due at the office, but we'll try and be here when you get out of recovery."

"I think I'd like that, princess." Yang teeters as she attempts to step out of her pajama pants, the toes on one foot catching the waistband. Another bit of anxiety ripples through her, brought on by the thought of being alone and confused, thoughts blurred by drugs. But it's brief, countered by the idea of being mentally _not here_ for a while. No dreams, no damning recollections of being neutered by that red headed and horned mother fucker, just a few hours of nothing. When she put it like that...

"You got a rubber band or something, one of you?"

"I do, I do!" Ruby is digging through her pockets. "...Can I turn around now?"

"Yeah, I'm decent." She smiles to herself. "Well, I'm dressed anyway."

Ruby giggles and Weiss rolls her eyes a little. Yang unconsciously watches Ruby move around her and tries not to let the discomfort show when her little sisters takes her hair in her hands. Contact crackles quietly across her scalp as Ruby pulls gently, gathering the plentiful golden tresses and binding them together. As she comes back around to the front, Ruby takes hold of her hand again, looking up at her big sister with calm encouragement.

A soft knock and Dr. Arcane's voice breaks up the quiet.

"That's my cue." Yang exhales, pulling free of Ruby's light grasp. "I'll be fine."

"I know." Ruby nods. "I love you." and then she circles her arms around Yang's waist, closing the space between them.

"Love you too." her hesitation is hidden, her reciprocation appearing natural as she kisses the top of Ruby's head. Her sister's reluctance to let go is in no way concealed or downplayed. But she eventually steps back, Ruby then busying her hands with gathering up Yang's clothes.

As Yang starts across the room Weiss opens her arms, both of them somewhat surprised when the gesture is accepted. Their embrace is brief but no less sincere, and then the three of them file back into the spacious hallway.

"Ready, Miss Xiaolong?" Dr. Arcane asks.

"As I'll ever be." Yang smirks. "Just be gentle, it's my first time."

The two share a little laugh as the doctor gestures her patient down the corridor. Dr. Arcane lingers long enough to give the other young women a parting look. "I'll have someone contact you, Miss Schnee."

"Thank you, doctor." She thinks to offer up some sort of encouragement -good luck, break a leg _oh god, no-_ but refrains. Dr. Arcane is a professional, people like her didn't really need luck, did they? "Come on, Ruby."

Ruby hears but doesn't immediately respond. Part of her has to stay put, to watch Yang walk away until she disappears around the next corner. An uncomfortable but tolerable weight settles on her shoulders as she takes a breath. She feels the cool comfort of Weiss' hand curling around her arm, gently tugging to encourage her to move. She realizes just how heavy her feet suddenly feel.

"Come on." Weiss repeats.

Ruby finally moves, turning to face the other direction and consciously putting one foot in front of the other. She tucks instinctively closer to her partner, bumping her shoulder with her own and receiving a quiet giggle, a sound she finds marginally uplifting.

"Maybe, if there's time," Weiss begins with an uncharacteristic unsteadiness, "and if the weather holds...maybe you and I could walk the property again this afternoon?"

"Sure. That'd be nice."

"Or perhaps dinner instead? After I get back from the office, I mean," Weiss hoped she would sound a little happier over the prospect, but mentally chastises herself. Ruby had her mind on other things, thoughts of fraternizing with her is likely light years away. Maybe a part of her thought Ruby would appreciate the distraction, consciously or not. She tries to think of something else to say, her mind sputtering even as her jaw works to form the words that aren't there yet. The words that never come as her scroll goes off, already for the dozenth time. There are days where she hates the little device.

"Oh," Weiss' pale brows jump as she studies the screen, "it's your uncle. He's back in town...says we need to talk."

Ruby perks up a little. "Do you have time? I mean, you said you had to go in today,"

"I've got time. If nothing else, I can set myself up in my father's old office." She would always make time for this, her inheritance was trivial in comparison. Her fingers work to respond to the text, suddenly pausing with a quirk to her features. "...I feel like I should send a car for him, but I'm convinced he won't accept it."

"He's not a huge fan of the cold, so he probably would."

"I'll take your word for it." her fingers are moving again. "We best be on then."

"What's the rush?"

"Winter is home and I don't want to give your uncle the opportunity to harass her."

"There's that." Ruby giggles absently. Then her head cocks to the side, her gaze thinning on her partner. "Weiss?"

"Hm?" Eyes forward, heels clicking rhythmically.

"...Were you asking me out?" Ruby watches her, not expecting a reaction she could hear as much as one she could see. She sees her back stiffen, her hands curl into loose fists and her pace quickens for all of three steps. Ruby tries to hold back another chuckle. "Because that's what it sounded like."

"It's just dinner...or a walk, or...w-whatever. That's all." it sounded just as much like a protest as a defense.

"Oh? That's too bad."

Weiss stops with a punctuate _clack_ of one heel. "What do you mean? Why?"

"Because I wanted to say yes." and Ruby offers up an easy smile, her cheeks turning pink and her eyes set with quiet hope and a silver shimmer. She watches Weiss' face flare bright red, finding her wordless reaction just...adorable. "But if it's just-"

"But it _isn't_ just-" the heiress sputters before tucking her lips between her teeth in a defiant reflex of her feelings versus her high-brow sensibilities. Her whole body jerks back into a hurried, almost stalking walk. "Let's go."

Ruby nods, pulling up her hood and still smiling. "Can we have grilled cheese for dinner?"

"Whatever you want." Weiss responds, realizing only afterward that she has no idea what Ruby's talking about.

 

Yang is on her back, deceptively comfortable, trying to break up the static of anxiety buzzing through her with spurts of small talk. Her eyes track the movement of masked doctors and assistants moving around her. She flexes her hand through the little pain of an IV, shivers in reaction to the wash of cold across her skin from the cocktail of drugs pushing into her body through the clear plastic tube. A small, nameless fear inches in with it. She tries focusing on the ceiling instead of the sensation of her skin crawling.

"How do you feel? Lightheaded yet?" Dr. Arcane inquires softly.

"Nope. Just fine." she flinches as she feels hands around her stump, the short sleeve being rolled up a little higher.

"Don't fight to stay awake, okay?"

"Trying." _Kinda hard to want to sleep surrounded by strangers and a tray full of sharp objects beside the bed. God, they're going to cut me open. They're gonna cut me..._

"You hear that beeping, Miss Xiaolong?"

"Yeah?" she swallows the new thickness in her throat, mentally matching her fluttering heart with the digital chiming of a machine.

"That's your heart rate. I really need you to relax."

"Sorry. First time jitters I guess."

"That's normal. Why don't you tell me about your family? Are they here in Atlas?"

"No. My dad lives in Patch."

"Long way from home, huh?"

"Guess so." Yang blinks, her vision a little blurry, the bodies moving around her becoming poorly focused blurs.

"Any siblings?"

"Little sister. She was the girl in the red hood."

"She seems nice. How old is she?"

"Sixteen. Almost seventeen." talking is starting to become a conscious effort, her tongue taking on a sort of phantom weight.

"And you're both friends of Miss Schnee?"

Yang laughs, a deep and chesty noise. "Despite her best efforts, yeah. We went to Beacon together."

"I had guessed." Dr. Arcane smiles to herself, hearing the beeping of the heart monitor gradually slowing down. "Now, shouldn't there be one more?"

"Hm?"

"The put you in teams, right?"

"Oh. Yeah." her eyelids slide down without her permission and stay closed for a moment, her thoughts sinking back, back, to the quiet place in her mind where she keeps secrets and memories. When she opens them again it's only part way.

_Blake, Blake, Blake._

"Who's Blake?"

Yang hadn't even noticed when her mouth moved and her vocal cords vibrated with her partner's name. "She's my best friend. I miss her." she still can't feel her jaw working, moving without really thinking. "I love her."

Dr. Arcane's assistant brings a chair to the edge of the bed, giving her space to occupy it as another situates the stump on a small platform in front of her. "Maybe she'll come see you after the surgery."

"Right. 'N pigs fly."

"I could strap a jet engine to a Boarbatusk if that would make you feel better."

"Hah." she exhales lethargically. "Yeah. Get right on that." Yang's head rolls idly back and forth, eyes drifting closed and open again in an almost rhythm. Everything is feeling fuzzy now, her vision washing out to vague shades of white and gray. "When I get better...I've got a motorcycle, and when I get better, I'm gonna take her for a ride."

"I bet she'll love it."

"Yeah," a cocky smirk stretches stupidly across her mouth, "and then we'll go joyriding on my bike."

The last things Yang registers is the restrained laughter of Dr. Arcane and her assistants, a languid smugness at her own cleverness, and the sudden, searing thought that once she got her shit back together she was going to hunt down Adam Taurus and play his heart like a fucking accordion. Maybe then Blake would come back.

 

_(--)_

Blake's ears snap back as a gust of wind shoves over her. They lay against her hair as she and Qrow walk down the ship's gangplank and onto the solid foundation of the harbor. Snowflakes nip at her cheeks, making them redden. Qrow seems unbothered by the snow gathering in his hair and on his shoulders, walking and not talking as normal, but under his heavy leather coat he's shivering and pissy about the awful drop in temperature. She can hear him grumbling something to himself, likely a couple of choice expletives, and almost laughs. Her chin dips, her eyes on her feet for a moment before she catches the sight of her own wrist in her peripheral, more so the band of silk twined around it.

She should put her bow back on. Not just because of the cold but because rumors of Atlas' reception of faunus in their kingdom travels fast and far.

_Haven't worn it since I got blood on it._

Which was months ago, when she put a certain part of her life permanently to bed. So to speak. Had she even had it cleaned since then? Blake cuts off the train of thought there, electing to wear the ribbon if for no other reason than not wanting to invite any unwanted staring. Her hands work thoughtlessly, practiced in the motions of tying the almost customary bow. Strange, it just doesn't feel quite right anymore, but she leaves it be.

To be honest, Blake isn't sure how to feel when she discovers a Schnee Dust Company car waiting across the way, doubly so when Qrow decides to tell her it's waiting for _them_. His explanation as to why doesn't really help the situation, her confusion still evident in the awkward setting of her sable brows as they approach the vehicle and climb inside. They sit on either far end of the back seat, both staring out the window and watching the city pass by. Blake chances a glance at the older hunter, finding his chin propped against his knuckles and his eyelids threatening to close. With a quiet sigh she turns her eyes back to the glass and blur of white and gray beyond it.

Anxiety is steadily becoming a thick pressure in her chest. When it pitches she tries to push it back down and mostly fails. She can almost sense how close they are now, a little shiver in her aura that draws gooseflesh up her forearms and the back of her neck, making the small hairs bristle. She swallows the recurring lump in her throat when she realizes it's there. Her hands fold together snugly in her lap and she can't ignore the slick heat centering in her palms. _Hope for the best, expect the worst. Hope for the best, expect the worst._ It's an involuntary mantra, developed out of a need to soften the hardest of emotional blows. Piece by piece she's assembling the armor she'll need to weather whatever was coming, and as complete as she feels it is once the car pulls to a stop in front of the Schnee Manor, she can't find the confidence to move.

"Come on, kid. Holding out won't make it any easier." Qrow says as he opens the door on his side and steps out, a rush of cold air whipping through the opening.

Blake swallows again, the gesture loud enough for her to hear, and forces her body into motion. Every step she takes from the curb to the front door is progressively more difficult to make, like the soles of her boots wanted to stick to the snowy concrete, maybe even punch right through it in order to keep her anchored in place. By the time the two of them reach the door it feels like the world is pushing down on her shoulders, and when Qrow knocks it makes her flinch each time. Her ears flit against the silk confines of her bow when the hinges whine as they are allowed inside.

Blake flinches again as the door closes behind them, the sound echoing ominously through the awesome space inside. Klein offers to take their coats, both Qrow and Blake declining, but then asks if they have need of anything else. On a reflex Blake asks for tea, just as surprised at herself for asking as she is to have Klein accept and go about filling the request.

"Miss Schnee and Miss Rose are waiting for you in the den, Mr. Branwen."

Qrow quietly nods, starting to walk on with a gesture for Blake to follow. It takes a moment to register, her first few steps hurried in order to catch up to him. The two of them cross the great marble floor and take the path behind the massive staircase, the echoes of their footsteps dying away as the passage thins. The steady impact of boots and heels is overwhelmed by other voices further down the corridor. Blake can feel her ears moving to focus on them, just like she can feel her heart clench at the familiarity of the sounds. It's Weiss and Ruby, there's no mistaking it. They were fifty feet away and closing fast, any second now she was going to have to look them in the face and say...oh god, what would she say?

She has this sinking feeling that "Hi" was going to do _anything_ but cut it.

Qrow doesn't appear to notice when Blake freezes just steps behind him. He continues on and disappears into the den, flinching at the high-pitched and squeaking greeting from his niece. Ruby dashes around the sofa she and Weiss have been occupying since their return from the hospital and -more or less- plasters herself to her uncle's front, her face in his chest and her arms around him. She tries to assail him with questions, or so he assumes seeing as every word is muffled by his clothes.

"It's good to see you safe, Mr. Branwen." Weiss greets him as she stands up from the sofa, more so out of etiquette than anything else.

"Just Qrow." he corrects with an aimless lilt of his head, his hands moving to Ruby's shoulders to encourage her a little away. "Yang is...?"

"In surgery. We won't hear anything until tonight, most likely."

He nods somewhat knowingly, unsurprised. "Where's Winter?"

"Sleeping." she answers quickly, warily and with a slight thinning of her eyes.

"Just as well, we've got some shop to talk. But first," Qrow leans back at the waist, craning his neck until he can see into the hallway, "I brought someone to see you."

Ruby finally lets him go, looking up at her uncle with her bright happiness replaced by curiosity. She takes a step back, Weiss now beside her, and the two wait as Qrow gestures to someone still unseen in the hallway. Both girls watch him like hawks as he steps aside, looking away only when another comes into view.

The room is flooded with a simmering warmth, the energy wafting across the floor until it spills up the walls and tumbles from the ceiling over them. Weiss feels it keenly against her aura, against the deeper coolness of her magic and feels it respond without her meaning to. But it isn't in repulsion, it's a testing inquiry, a gentle probing toward something that may or may not be familiar like a distant memory. She acknowledges a sort of conversance before her mind comprehends what -more so _who_ \- she is looking at. Long sable hair, feline ears folded down within the cover of a silk bow -submissive, and piercing eyes that aren't _just_ ebony and gold as they had been before. Her chin is dipped, shoulders looking tight with the slightest, anxious tremble. Realization dawns on her steadily, slowly as hope and doubt wrestle with each other. Is she...is she _really_...

Ruby's hands move to cup her own cheeks as her lungs take in a drawn out, squeaking gasp of air. Her face lights up with an enormous smile, her body all but vibrating with the joy charging through her. " _Blake_!"

Blake braces herself for the impending impact of Ruby lunging forward, her body reflexively making to turn away and run but failing to do so in time. Before she can make up her mind Ruby has her, arms locked around her waist much like she had done to Qrow. Though, instead of burying her face in Blake's bosom, her forehead pushes against her shoulder. At first Blake's arms are out, drifting neither here nor there, part of her wondering frantically what to do with them.

"Please hug me back," Ruby's half-sobs. "Please. I've missed you,"

Blake's heart clenches at the little vibration of Ruby's voice, her eyes already starting to burn. She's still so afraid of what was going to come of this, but that fear seems not to hold enough sway over her to prevent her arms from cinching almost desperately around Ruby's shoulders. Her lips tuck between her teeth as her brow scrunches, still fighting the urge of tears as she presses her cheek into Ruby's hair. She forces herself to speak. "...I missed you too."

" _Ahem_ ,"

Blake's ears flit forward, briefly piqued before folding back again as her amber eyes lift and settle on Weiss, taking in her crossed arms and cocked hip, her ears honing in on the gentle tapping of one foot. Though, comparing her posture to the setting of her eyes creates an awful mixture of conflicting signals. Is she angry? Happy? The faunus couldn't tell, and the uncertainty is all but nerve-wracking. Now she's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Here comes the scolding and the rejection...

"Ruby, you're being greedy." Weiss grouses gently, her hands dropping with some force to her sides.

"What? There's room," Ruby clutches a little tighter. "Make me the filling of a friend sandwich!"

"Hey, _you_ get your hug, then I get mine. _After_ that you can have your sandwich or whatever. It's only fair."

Ruby sniffles, almost whining "But I don't want to let go," Something in the back of Ruby's mind is screaming in warning, the urge to hold on clawing frantically in fear of Blake possibly disappearing again. Or worse, that the instant their contact is broken Ruby might wake up to find none of this is happening to begin with.

Blake doesn't know what to do, what to say, or how to feel. She's never had girls fight over her before.

" _Ruby_ ," Weiss couples the fussy demand with a punctuated click of her heel against the floor.

Ruby pulls away like one rips off a band-aid, taking one big step back knowing if she were any closer she would just throw herself on Blake again -the intent is obvious in the way her hands fuss in front of her. It leaves Blake's arms hovering once more, like it simply happened too fast for her mind to comprehend Ruby's absence and make her limbs drop to their natural place. But that's just as well with Weiss making calm, collected steps forward until she takes Ruby's vacancy.

Now Blake can feel the pulsing chill of Weiss' aura wrapping around her just as the heiress' arms mold around her waist. Not unpleasant or unsettling, but it's particularly unexpected, especially when her own aura responds in kind and the energies twine together like threads on a loom. After a moment of being pressed together in a tighter embrace, Blake feels Weiss tensing. Does she know?

"Weiss," Blake forces out, her tone just above a whisper, "...Qrow told me."

"Told you what?"

"You're a Maiden now too."

"... _Too_?" Weiss lifts her head, looking up at her friend with initial and searching confusion which steadily morphs into curious understanding. She can see it now that she's closer, the change in Blake's eyes, the change in the sensation of her aura that she had seconds ago written off as nothing out of place. She had been gone for months, after all, who _wouldn't_ have changed after that much time away? But now she is actually searching, sussing out the things that are out of place, and she can sense them all as plainly as she sees the faunus in front of her. She registers the incredible, sweltering wellspring of Blake's magic and feels gooseflesh spring up all over her body, the small hairs bristling sharply.

"What happened?"

Blake's ears snap back and her gaze wavers, breaks away. "It's...a long a story. I don't know if-,"

"They need to hear it, Blake, as much as you don't want to have to tell them." Qrow grumbles from his perch a few steps away, propped against the wall. "But I don't see why it can't wait until after everyone is up and about."

Blake exhales, relieved at the perhaps unintentional act of mercy on the older huntsman's part.

"We can wait until Tag and her Guardian are awake, at least."

"About that," Weiss clears her throat, unconsciously having to pry herself away from Blake. No worries, Ruby is quick to the fill the empty space again.

"What about it?" one sooty brow lifts and a kink forms on one side of Qrow's mouth.

"I don't suppose you've seen the news,"

"Can't say I've had the time, what with rushing between Vale and here." he straightens, arms crossing over his chest. "What did I miss?"

Weiss takes a breath, bracing herself. "Our ship was attacked by Grimm and we were separated."

Qrow's other brow joins the first, "Please tell me Tag is still with you,"

"Tag's fine." part of her is happy to see him deflate with relief, another part of her is still ready for the tongue lashing she expects -something along the lines of _you stupid kids_. "Jaune and Billy are holed up in north Vale right now. They're safe."

Qrow rubs his eyes with a chesty groan. He eventually nods, "I want to hear everything, but I need a few drinks first, and I haven't eaten since yesterday." He feels like shit and knows he probably looks the part.

The subtle lift of her chin and the thinning of Weiss' eyes does little to hide her disapproval of Qrow's vice, but it also lends to her reluctant acceptance. "Then feel free to make yourself at home, I'll arrange for some food to be brought. You still take tea, don't you Blake?"

Without a second thought Blake responds, albeit with a small hitch. "I already asked for some."

"Oh, perfect. Then I'll be right back."

"Then we get to do the friend sandwich," Ruby calls down the hallway, "and I get to be in the middle!"

" _Blake_ gets to be in the middle, Ruby, and that's final."

Blake is confused, it's visible on her face. None of this was how she expected it to be. Where were the reserved and judgmental glances? The stammered, unnatural greetings and forced sentiments? Her mind is buzzing as she looks down at Ruby still latched onto her, her keen vision catching the dull glint of tears along the younger girl's lashes. She's crying? Why is she crying? It couldn't be because...no, nobody cries over her. Over a faunus. Do they?

Well, in any case, it appears Ruby does. And Blake would have sworn she saw Weiss get a little bleary as well.

But, then again, they didn't know. They had no idea. Blake's heart sinks a little as she hugs Ruby again, tighter this time, still feeling like something heavy and horrible is about to drop on her.

 

 

Author's Note: More Blake next chapter, I promise, gotta set the stage for all that delicious Bumbleby that I love so very, very much. Lots of character building and fence-mending on the way, so brace yourself for the slog. Love you guys, hope you're having fun, see you around!

 


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Gypsy comes strolling out of the hallway with her arms full of rolled papers and stretches of fabric, enough of them to make navigating around the den furniture somewhat precarious. As is customary for any being with a pinky toe, the smallest digit is offered up as sacrifice to the corner of the small table beside her recliner. Lola and her corgis are piled on the sofa, listening to the evening news, and all five of them make the same cringing noise. Knowing the house is full of rabbit ears, Gypsy does her best to restrain a string of curses, focusing instead on the now cleared kitchen table where she drops the armload once she's close enough.

"These are all from dad's collection?" Jaune looks over the pile, watching some of them unfurl in front of him to reveal themselves as maps, then he looks up. His initially grateful smile morphs into confusion, one flaxen brow rising. "Mom, you okay?"

"Fine, dear, your daddy's just in one of his moods." she nods once with a breathy laugh, her throbbing toe forgotten as she adjusts the waist of her skirt. "I swear that man could sing the panties off a nun."

He sputters, pale cheeks flashing bright red. " _Mom_."

"What? You're an adult now,"

"But we have a  _guest_ ." he tilts his head sharply toward the hulking faunus beside him, Billy's head snapping up from perhaps a stray thought or an impending nap.

"We do, and by the looks of them, they're old enough to not be offended by talk of an old rabbit having a good time."

They both look at Billy, their silver eyes moving from one Arc to the other and back again, taking a second to comprehend what was going on. Then they smile. "I don't mind; sex was a fairly common conversation back home, so this is nothing new." And while they have no idea what a nun is, they judged by the pride on Gypsy's face that it must be an extreme standard to meet.

"There, see? I do what I want." another punctuated nod. Then she moves to the table and props herself on her knee, her hands starting to file through the rolls of fabric and parchment. "It'll be _so_ nice to have you both here for the Solstice, it just wasn't the same without you last year, Jaune. I missed my favorite dance partner."

"I missed all of you too." he replies warmly, though sounding somewhat distracted. The conversation that partly felt like an interrogation with Weiss is still hanging on his mind.

He had to admit, he was surprised that she had been so happy to hear from him. He had always thought her rather indifferent to him, civil at best, but she had seemed genuinely relieved. Guess there's a first for everything. From there the conversation had quickly shifted to the obvious questions -where are you, are you all right, and so on. Jaune almost causally answered them all, only having one of his own to add: how were Nora and Ren doing?

_I can't say._ She had been hesitant.  _I mean...I suppose they're all right? They've been...sleeping mostly._

Though that hadn't worried him.  _It was like that when Pyrrha died._ Now that he considers it again, he realizes how new that phrase had been to his own ears, how unfamiliar it had felt in his mouth. He can't think of having ever said such a thing out loud before, yet it had come with such ease it was almost unsettling.

His thoughts drift away to nearly a year ago, to the refuge in Vale in the days following Beacon's fall, to his teammates crammed together on a cot and seemingly refusing to move at all for days. The depression fueled power-sleeping was brief, didn't even last a week, but that wasn't the end of it. Ren suffered from lethargy for several more days, and Nora wouldn't say much at all for nearly a month.  _That_ had worried Jaune the most. Almost scared the hell out of him to see her so unlike herself.

Jaune hated himself in a way, to leave them like that while he was so comfortable here at home with his family. But it's a bitterness he swallows little by little, telling himself it's going to be worth it. It'll be the last thing he'll ask them to do for his sake. Just be patient, and when they meet again he would be better, he would be more deserving of them.

Though Billy had offered to help, how he would achieve that is still up for debate.

_"Take a few days and do your grieving, boy, for starters._ The older faunus' voice echoes in his head, even days later. _Some folks use loss as their strength, but clearly you're not of that lot. I'm afraid your heart's just too big."_

It's fair, all of it, and he nods mentally. In reality, none of them had really taken the time to properly mourn -if there is a way to do such a thing. Propriety and pain aren't exactly cozy bedfellows. But Beacon fell and what remained of Team JNPR did all they could to just...push, like everyone else was trying to just push through it all. The three of them didn't collapse and cry it out, though now that he considers it maybe they should have. Maybe things would be better if they had made time just to feel the pain and be sad together. But no, shoving their heads into the seemingly hopeless task of tracking down Cinder Fall -to be angry and blame someone- had been _so much easier_ than accepting that their friend was gone and their lives had been turned upside down with all the grace of a brick through a pane of glass.

_"I'll train you, but be warned, I'm not gentle or very patient. So I'd rather take you in once you're...better adjusted."_

"Jaune, honey?"

He shudders, coming back to now. "Hm?"

"You're off down the rabbit hole," she chuckles. "I know it's late, but maybe you'd like a touch of coffee?"

"No thanks. Gives me the jitters."

"Still? Hm, here I thought you'd grown out of that." Gypsy inches her shoulders, dropping the matter.

"Could I have some, mother?" Lola requests from the den.

"Of course, dear." Gypsy moves to the stove, retrieving the pot from its hook beneath the nearby cabinets. "Be sure to keep Svengoolie out of it this time, eh? I'll not have him running around like last week less I kick his ass square." One lapin ear tilts towards the den to catch a high-pitched, canine whine.

"I'll do my best, though I know you'd never hit him."

"It's the thought that counts." and a laugh passes between them.

The conversation dies out, Jaune's thoughts starting to wander again as he paws at the rolled maps within his reach. Some of them don't look to be that old; the heavy gauge paper is yellowed, browned in some places, the once vibrant inks appearing somewhat faded. While others, especially the ones made from cloth -some of them were entirely woven, the landmasses and boundaries marked in separate colored strands throughout- had terribly frayed edges and moth holes going through entire regions. A majority of them still have their latitude and longitude lines visible, some in dull white, others in faded black, and the names of kingdoms and continents remain legible. Jaune pulls one to him, turning it so the compass is in the bottom right corner, and unconsciously finds the Warren on the map -though this one is so old he finds no symbol for it. He reaches for another and repeats the process, this time finding finely scrawled calligraphy designating the location of his home. Still not wholly focused or thinking, one of his fingers starts tracing the longitude line that runs through it.

Gypsy steps away from the stove and back to the table, propping herself on one palm with the other fist perched on her hip. She leans over, ears moving this way and that as she looks over the maps for a moment. Her features quirk, brow pulling in the middle as she starts fishing through the other rolled papers. It takes a few minutes, but she finally manages to find what she's looking for, a roll of deep scarlet fabric that had been tucked inside of another. She grabs the exposed edge and whips the cloth like one snaps a wet towel, unfurling it in an instant and letting it drift onto the table. "Here it is." she says, satisfied. "My mother made this one herself. It's how she came to meet my father."

Jaune snaps back to attention, shifting in his seat. Everything on the scarlet cloth is drawn in startling white dye. One by one he mentally checks off all the familiar features in his mind; the unmistakeable outline of Vale, the latitude and longitude lines, but this one is so old he can't find the Warren  _or_ Beacon. Though the capital city is exactly where it should be. And all across the rest of the map are lines that seem to just drape over the world all willy-nilly, criss-crossing in a scant few places. He looks at one of the other maps for reference, finding home first and matching the position of his finger on one parchment to the other. The seemingly aimless white lines came together where the Warren was supposed to be.

"So," he finally looks up, "these are ley lines?"

"Mm-hmm," Gypsy nods, "and where they meet is called a convergence. You can see here that they pass together under the house."

Jaune nods, Billy mimicking the action.

"How is it they dispelled my mark?" the bison looks up.

"Ley lines," Gypsy straightens, her hand rolling on her wrist as she thinks, "they give off a kind of energy. It fuddles with hexes and other magic. Even mine. I can't use the craft so long as I'm under this roof."

"And your Semblance?"

"It's fine." she buzzes her lips, dismissive. "Never had problems with it. I don't imagine you would either."

"Why not?"

"Semblance isn't magic. I don't fully understand how they differ, only that they do and that's enough for me." Gypsy inches her shoulders, lilting her head as she moves back to the stove. "And I've noticed Grimm don't take too kindly to the convergence either. I've seen them on the outskirts of town and up by the lake, but they've never set foot much closer than the treeline."

Billy nods slowly, a curious hum rolling in their chest. "Perhaps that's why we haven't seen any trace of the Lion."

"Maybe." Jaune agrees absently, his fingers still tracing the map's features.

"But it's out there." Gypsy adds as casually as one puts on pants, pulling ceramic mugs from the cabinet and setting them on the counter beside the stove.

Jaune's eyes lift to focus on the back of his mother's head. "You saw it?"

"Felt it. At least I think I did." she shakes her head a little as she tips the pot over the first mug. "On our way back from the train station...my first instinct said Grimm, but then I wasn't so sure. The signals I got were mixed enough to put in a highball glass."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"If I thought for a second that we were in any real danger, I would have." and she offers up a matter-of-fact nod as she slips into the living room to give Lola her coffee. When she returns to the kitchen she grabs up her own mug and finally settles at the table. "It's not that I don't think you can handle yourself, Jaune, certainly in the company of your friend, but I'm still your mother and I'm going to protect you while I can."

Jaune feels a brief swell of guilt, pushing his hand through his hair with his eyes averted. "You're right." Then the guilt is shadowed by a stone of shame in the pit of his stomach. His mother was giving him way too much credit, if only she knew her son was such a sorry excuse for a huntsman.

"I'm more curious as to why it didn't attack us, or anyone in town for that matter." Billy continues.

"Well, not to brag," Gypsy waggles her eyebrows with a smirk, "but my aura is _quite_ imposing -or so I've been told. That and I have hex marks all over Underbrush. Not that anyone knows about them, and I mean for it to stay that way if it's all the same to you."

"Of course." The bison nods. "Were you able to discern anything else?"

Gypsy makes a noncommittal grunt with an inching of one shoulder as she sips her coffee. "I'm still trying to, safe to say I've never sensed something like that before so I'm not entirely sure of what I felt." In truth, she's not so much unsure as disbelieving. What she had detected on the trail back to town had been a mixture of three things; the ancient, teeming darkness of an Old One -a sensation she had only experienced once before but will never forget, the low hum of an aura, and magical threads that felt hauntingly familiar. It just wasn't possible, but Gypsy would swear she felt her sister's magic on it like a fingerprint in fresh paint on the back of her mind.

But Salem was years long dead.

"Mom?"

Her ears prick, thoughts snapping back to now as she takes another sip. "Sorry, dear." a reflexive laugh rattles out of her. "But I'm willing to agree with your Maiden, Billy, something about it...resembles a human. Though I'll admit that terrifies me."

"It _is_ troubling." Billy's thick fingers lace together in front of them, their eyes on their own hands briefly.

"What do you intend to do?"

"Until we can rejoin our friends, we do what we have to. While my Maiden would severely disapprove, if it comes to the point where we have to...dispatch the creature to save lives, we will. I won't put your family needlessly at risk."

"Appreciate the thought." she nods once.

"I don't doubt she will want to try and... _save_ it. If it's even possible."

"Do you think it is?" Her expression is equal parts fear and intrigue.

"I don't know what I think. I've fought the creature only once before and it seemed like just another Grimm...except not. If that makes any sense. I haven't given it a great amount of thought otherwise, but the more I do the more I share your feelings." they nod across the table. "I'm worried."

Jaune doesn't seem to mind that he keeps drifting away from the conversation, his attention falling back to the maps in front of him, more so to his thumb that continues tracing ley lines without rhyme or reason. The digit drifts along one of the lines that cross beneath the Warren, follows it east past Vale's coastline and across the sea to Mistral. His thoughts linger on the memory of being there, briefly remembering the marshes and shuddering.

His thumb eventually settles on another convergence, this one located on the northwestern shore of an inland sea. His brow knits for just a second, curious. "Mom?"

"Hm?"

"Isn't this where you said you and Aunt Glynda fought the Grimm?" And he doesn't know it, but in her manor in Queen's Hollow, Glynda Goodwitch feels a chill run up her back.

"Hm?" Gypsy repeats, leaning across the table to have a closer look, the back of her mind sparking with the thought of needing her glasses. "Ah yes, that's it. At the time we hadn't known the convergence was so close," she continues, anticipating what Jaune was going to say next, "we think that might have had something to do with Salem's magic not working so well."

"I thought Grimm couldn't get too close to them?"

"I did, but you see," she points with one finger, the tip of a blunt claw settling on the intersection of lines, "it's on the shore. The Grimm lived in the sea." and the finger traces the markings representing the body of water just beside the convergence. "Must have made just enough of a difference to count against us."

"What happened after that?"

"Strangely enough," Gypsy settles onto her backside again, "I heard the Old One went dormant. It had been when we flushed it out that day, so maybe it's just reached that stage of being old where all it wants to do is sleep." she laughs, mostly to herself. "The town on those islands is still there, so I guess the rumor is true. Nice place. Nice people."

Jaune nods, looking back at the map, focusing on the cluster of outlines in the middle of the sea. _Ithica_ the script reads.

"Had I still been single I might have gone to live there."

"Had Noah not sung your panties off?" Billy smirks with one raised eyebrow.

Gypsy sputters in her coffee, laughing with a knowing grin that stretches from one more-human ear to the other. Lola's restrained laughter drifted from the living room, only serving to make her mother chuckle a little louder. Billy finally laughs with her when Gypsy mutter's "dirty bison", the larger faunus going so far as to tip back their head when the bright sound emerges.

Jaune seems thoroughly unamused, almost uncomfortable. "Then I guess _you two_ have reached the stage of being old when everything's about sex."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, son. I may be old, but I'm far from dead. After all it's how _you_ got here."

He shifts in his seat, his face reddening. Then his whole body jerks to the side under the weight of Billy's hand clapping over his shoulder.

"You'll understand someday, don't worry. It's more fun than you give it credit for." and they watch as Jaune's face reddens further and he tries to hide it in his folded arms.

"I'm _not_ talking about this in front of my _mom_ ," he groans loudly in protest.

"And who the hell _are_ you gonna talk about it in front of? Your sisters? I bet Nessa still has you believing an erection is a medical condition."

His head jerks back up, his cheeks burning bright enough to stop traffic. "N-no!"

"Only if it lasts longer than four hours." Lola chimes in from the living room.

Now all he wants is to disappear, doubly so when his mother tries apologizing but physically can't because the laughter is just too much. His forehead smacks the top of the table when he sees the borderline-hysterical tears rolling down Gypsy's face. Gods' sake, wearing a dress had been more comfortable than this.

Jaune feels a little tugging on the leg of his jeans, tucking his chin to look under the table. He thinks it's one of Lola's corgis -Est is particularly _chewy_ \- but is only a little surprised to see Yumi pushing up between his knees, ears folded back and eyes set sympathetically.

"You're supposed to be in bed." he sighs.

"I can't sleep." a little whimper. "Will you come to bed with me?"

"Mom and me are talking."

"I know," she whines, cocking her head as her arms fold over his thighs. "Just long enough for a story then. _Please_?"

After a moment he relents, smiling. The grown-ups weren't actively talking about anything _important_ now anyway.

Jaune carefully stands up and moves away from the table, bending down to gather his sister up and situate her on his hip. The laughter stops when Gypsy realizes her youngest is present, looking only marginally mortified at the prospect of how long she had been within earshot.

Her ears stick out to the side, almost forming a horizontal line. "When did you get here, why aren't you in bed?"

"Jaune's gonna read me a story first." Yumi declares, her head tucking to his shoulder, the one erect ear across his throat.

"I'll be right back, mom. Please, don't hold that thought on my account." and he shuffles on his way, trying not to show how desperate he is to be in another room.

Both Billy and Gypsy watch him disappear into the hallway beyond the living room, the mother faunus slowly shaking her head with steadily thinning eyes. "I _swear_ that child can teleport."

 

Jaune carries his little sister down to the far end of the hallway, passed all of the other rooms and pushes through the little dark opening that she likely left upon her earlier escape to the dining room. He navigates the shadows to the bed, just barely knocking his shin on the wooden frame. Reaching out blindly with his free hand, he searches by memory for the lamp that he switches on with a flick of his fingers once he finds it. Jaune then bends down and grips a corner of the mussed blanket and sheets and pulls them down.

"Ready, honey-bunny?" he asks playfully, smiling like he has dozens of times before.

"Yeah," Yumi giggles, wriggling off his hip to climb up to his shoulders, coming to stabilize both feet on either side of his head. She jumps off "Wee!" and flops face down on the bed, her pillows jumping off the mattress with her weight. Still laughing she squirms as Jaune corrals her into place, pulling the blankets up when she pushes against the pillows. Yumi snatches up her favorite stuffed animal, clutching the poor thing in a headlock.

Jaune settles on the edge of the bed, regarding the untidy stack of books on the bedside table. "What story do you want?" Then he looks to her as his fingers move up the rank of leather spines, waiting for his cue to stop. He waits, and waits, then-

"I want that one!" She points with her other hand before unceremoniously shoving her thumb in her mouth.

Jaune cocks his head and carefully negotiates the thin volume from beneath several others so the stack won't tip. "This one? _Again_?" he smiles at her, "I thought you would have it memorized by now."

"It's my favorite." she has a little lisp now with her thumb in the way.

"All of them are your favorite."

"Well _that_ one is my favorite _right now_." she nestles in a little deeper, her shoulders see-sawing into the pillows. "And don't forget to do the voices."

"I won't." he nods, pulling the cover back with the dry crackle of paper and old glue. He takes a breath, exhaling evenly, comfortably, and clears his throat. "Zerline and the magic mirror-"

Usually he carries right into the story from here. He knows he's read it almost a hundred times to her and has never once paused, but this time...something is different. _He's_ different. Immediately something in his mind clicks at the same time his gut clenches with an unmistakeable dread that washes over him in a hot wave. And while he'll never be sure how, he's certain - _knows_ \- that this isn't just a child's bedtime story. Just as the story of the Four Maidens isn't.

"Jaune?"

"Sorry, just got distracted. Here we go." He has to shake his head, but his attention comes back. "Once upon a time, before Remnant had a name, there was nothing but Dust. Out of the Dust came Zerline, the first Witch."

Jaune reads steadily, becoming more comfortable with each passage that tells the story of Zerline creating the seas and pulling the continents up from it with her incredible magic. Yumi hangs on every word, quiet wonder in her eyes as she listens to the birth of the great alpine forests of Vale and the desolation of Vacuo's interior. Occasionally he angles the book towards her so she can see the few illustrations. The whole of Atlas followed after Mistral's marshes -according to the story- as a bored afterthought on Zerline's part, the story alluding that as the reason it was nothing but ice and stone. Supposedly the Witch had run out of ideas. Menagerie would be the last of her creations for a time.

_Though Zerline had made so much, the world felt so empty. As empty as when she had come to be. Her loneliness became so great she used Dust to split her soul, separate her darkness from the light. The ritual created a creature known as Grimm._

For a moment Jaune wonders how his little sister ever learned to like this story.

_No longer burdened by her pain, Zerline sought to fill the world she had made. With Dust she made the birds and the fish and the beasts that walked the earth. And so too were born the faunus, fashioned from Dust in the Witch's image. The first of which she took as her own, two daughters and then one son who was the first human. Zerline found such great joy in watching her children thrive and multiply. But it doesn't last. As her creations grew in number, so did the offspring of Zerline's darkness, and they began to destroy everything the Witch had worked so hard to make._

From time to time he looks up, gauging the droop of Yumi's eyelids. Two-thirds of the way through the story she rolls onto her side towards him, eyes shut, but her lapin ears still react in little twitches to his voice, especially as he pitches it to impersonate the ancient Witch. "'I will teach you to hunt them, my children,' Zerline says, 'and we will seal the darkness away in a mirror.'"

_With her incredible magic Zerline formed the mirror from the same black Dust that had given her life. For years she and her children hunt the Grimm, all the while teaching humans and faunus alike to do the same. The trail eventually leads them to the heart of Vale, where the first of them had made its den. The battle raged for three days, leaving an entire region's forests razed and mountains leveled. But Zerline would succeed, and her darkness was trapped inside the magic mirror._

"'But what do we do?' the humans asked Zerline, terrified as Grimm still roamed the world. 'Live.' She replies. 'Live, and be the light of the world so the darkness will never overwhelm you.'"

When the last line of script rolls off his tongue Yumi is fast asleep. He pulls the blankets a little higher onto her shoulder before slowly -carefully- rising to his feet and switching off the light.

Jaune creeps out of her room with the little book tucked under his arm, brow steadily pulling inward with contemplation as he moves down the hall with the intent to return to the dining table. He can still hear laughter echoing gently off the walls. He'll pause near the head of the corridor, just beside the ladder that leads up to his room, his head turning towards it but his eyes still fixed ahead. For a moment his gaze focuses on his mother, the trafficking thoughts in his head suddenly pitching and turning to static as he searches them for something.

Though he won't find whatever it is he's looking for, all cohesive notions lingering on the story or nothing at all. In the end he half-scales the ladder, setting the book just atop the landing where he can take another look at it later.

 

_(II)_

It's after midnight and Weiss is due at the office in the morning. But here she is.

Ruby's been fighting sleep since they were all piled on the sofa and catching up in the den around seven this evening. But here she is.

Blake is scared out of her mind, her heart humming in her chest. She still doesn't know what she is going to do or say, if she has the guts to make it to the end of the hospital corridor, or if she'll even be able to stomach whatever is coming next. But here she is. Part of her wishes Qrow was with them, the older hunter's presence having been somewhat of a quiet stabilizer for her as of late. At the very least he was keen on reminding her of her purpose, albeit with a sort of brow-beating tone, and that had been enough for the last few days to keep her focused. Now she's at the full mercy of her anxiety, no one around able to brace her should she falter.

Because she knows if she made any allusion to not being up for this that Weiss and Ruby wouldn't force her to go ahead with it. They would let her keep hiding.

Dr. Arcane is waiting for them, once again in her semi-formal clothes and white coat and somehow looking no less presentable than she had before undertaking a grueling sixteen-hour procedure. Her fatigue does manage to show, however, when she tries to hide a yawn behind her hand as the three young women step up to her. Weiss greets her with a business-casual handshake and smile, immediately but not too insistently asking how Yang is doing.

"The surgery went as well as expected." Dr. Arcane nods with a satisfied turn to the corner of her mouth. She goes on into some finer details mixed with medical jargon that partly goes over their heads but the girls nod and agree as if they completely understand. Blake is hardly paying attention, her amber eyes fixated on the door just beyond Dr. Arcane's shoulder, her gaze constantly shifting between them.

"When she wakes up she'll likely still be a little... _not here_ , so to speak." she continues. "We have Miss Xiaolong on aura suppressors so she doesn't heal too quickly, it could interfere with the circuitry if scar tissue is allowed to form. It also makes her metabolism a little slow so the sedation is going to last longer, but within the next twelve hours she should be bright eyed and bushy tailed as always."

"Can we see her?" Ruby asks hopefully.

"She won't be much for conversation, but I suppose you could visit for a short while." the surgeon steps aside, gesturing to the door just behind her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for my date with a power nap. Her nurse should start his rounds any minute now, so if you have any more questions feel free to ask him." And then the doctor departs with a silent nod.

Ruby hurries into the darkened room as quietly as she can, the loudest noise being the whisper of her cape being pulled by the air stirred up by her movements. Weiss is decidedly more reserved, though she takes equal care in trying to control the volume of her heels on the tiles beneath her feet. She pauses in the doorway, looking back, not at all surprised to see Blake hasn't moved an inch. She can sense her teammate's apprehension in the form of anxious heat coiling against her own aura.

"...Do you want to wait?" she tries, hesitation inching between the words. "Until she's more...herself?"

"I don't know." Blake's response is a hushed, nervous laugh and her eyes are now focused on the floor. "That won't make this any easier."  _Quite the opposite, most likely._

Weiss feels more words perching on her tongue but keeps them behind her teeth. Part of her knows there's nothing she can say to smooth this over. The only way this would be resolved is by simply going through with it.

Blake swallows the mild thickness in her throat and forces her feet to move. She'll only make it as far as the doorway, almost perfectly filling Weiss' invisible footprints as she stops at the threshold. Looking into the room part of her is grateful that Weiss and Ruby stand between her and the single occupied bed. A breath shakes in and out of her as she takes the first step inside -a step that feels like ten tons is sitting in the sole of her boot.

Ruby props herself on her palms on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and looking down on her sister, her sleeping face lit up by the pale wash of a single halogen light above her. With her bottom lip tucked between her teeth Ruby leans a little further, tentatively reaching with one hand to push a few stray tresses out of her face. Yang stirs, a light flicker of her features in reaction to Ruby's touch.

"Yang?" it's little more than a whisper.

A puff of air passes between parted lips and Yang turns her head away. An unconscious movement most likely. Ruby curls her hand into her sister's larger one, a little smile curling her mouth when she feels the calloused pad of Yang's thumb press lightly against her knuckle. Even if it's just another reflexive motion, it's enough to soothe the creeping anxiety that's been riding on her shoulders for the last sixteen hours -something that pacing the manor almost three full times couldn't do.

"It's so strange not feeling her aura." Weiss says quietly, sounding somewhat uneasy. "I know it's the medication, but," it's so unnatural to be in the same room as Yang and not sense the rolling warmth of her presence. The air is tepid and still in a way that's unsettling.

"I know." Ruby chances to squeeze Yang's hand a little tighter, a bubble of disappointment popping in her chest when there's no reaction, unconscious or otherwise. She then tucks her chin and looks over her shoulder. "You okay?"

Blake flinches at the address, feeling the weight of Ruby's silver gaze. She's barely moved. "S-sorry. I just,"

"It's all right. She's still asleep."

Blake eventually nods, a curt tip of her chin that preambles another set of heavy feeling steps towards the bed. Her hands are shaking at her sides and her ears fold back beneath her bow.

She's still bright and beautiful, but seeing her like this forces Blake to revisit the last time she had seen Yang -in a bed so similar to this one, unconscious with bloody bandages around the stump of her arm- and it squelches the warmth gathering in her heart. Out of some strange compulsion her eyes move from Yang's face to what remains of her right arm, unsure of what she expects to find but still caught off guard by what she sees. The remainder of the limb is secured to Yang's side by a harness of some kind, straps pulling across her chest to keep it in place. Blake can see dark yellow betadine stains peeking up around the edges of the brace and bandages beneath it. The brace covers the stump almost completely, an opening at the bottom allowing space for a nest of wires and cords that lead to a machine on the far side of the bed. Blake has no idea what that particular machine is for, only that it gives her the heebie-jeebies. 

Yang's steady, audible breathing catches her attention, sending her memories even further back to the night they had all taken on Roman Torchwick and his pilfered Atlesian mech on the freeway. Yang had taken such a beating in comparison to the rest of them, and when they returned to the dormitory she had flopped into bed and curled up into as tight a ball as possible to sleep off the scrapes and bruises. It is a certain sign of a deep, bottomless sleep that actually serves to ease her nerves a little. It allows her to bring her thoughts back into a straight line.

"What am I going to say to her?" Blake sighs quietly. "There's so much, I...where do I even start?"  _The part where I abandoned her? Or maybe the fact that I murdered a man for her sake? Or that I killed her mo-_

"Just be here." Ruby replies simply. "That's where you start. After that...it'll come in its own time." And she's just fine with that because she feels like her entire world is in this room and it's finally - _finally-_ coming back together. For the time being, everything else felt secondary.

Blake doesn't outright agree, but eventually offers up a wordless nod.

"Should one of us stay with her?" Weiss has her scroll in hand, likely having just checked the time.

"I'll do it."

The heiress' brow knits gently. "You shouldn't be alone, Blake."

"Then send Qrow once he's feeling up to it. Or let Ruby stay with me, she's actually family."

"Weiss shouldn't be alone for the same reason  _you_ shouldn't." Ruby counters.

"I'll be fine. This hospital is crawling with security, even at this hour. I can handle it. Besides, our scrolls are working fine here. I'll call if I need to."

"Wow." Ruby smiles. "Blake Belladonna calling for backup? If  _that_ isn't some kind of magic, I don't know what is."

Blake feels her stomach twist, finding the jab more in bad taste than anything.

"How about I come back after Weiss heads into the office? It's only a few hours 'til then." Ruby continues. "I'm not of much help to her while she's working anyway. But...we don't have to leave now, do we?"

"Of course not." Weiss shakes her head, tucking her scroll away in its proper pocket. "I at least want to meet her nurse first." If for no other reasons than a little peace of mind and knowing who to blame should anything go wrong.

Her wish is fulfilled shortly after, a man in his mid twenties strolling through the door with visible purpose, only pausing when he realizes there are more people in the room than he expects. He promptly but quietly greets each of them in turn, introducing himself as Sterling but insisting they call him Clint for reasons he doesn't elect to give. He proceeds to check the IV as well as the machines with practiced ease, cataloging whatever the devices reveal on a tablet as he goes. Yang flinches once as he addresses the machine that leads into her stump, Clint gently insisting that it's perfectly normal -certainly not painful- when all three of them jump in reaction.

A sudden protective instinct makes Blake tense, a part of her wanting nothing more than to bounce him right out of the room. Weiss must have sensed the aggressive inclination as her hand cups the faunus' shoulder, encouraging Blake to remain still until he leaves.

Weiss and Ruby will stay for another hour or so, until Weiss yawns for the twentieth time and finally admits that she has to have  _some_ sleep. Ruby lays on the sad puppy look, giving Weiss big bleary eyes to try and convince a few more minutes out of her to no avail. Blake watches lovingly as they quietly fuss at each other, reminiscing with a little warmth blossoming in her heart. A blossom that fully blooms as she sees Ruby kiss her sister's forehead with a quiet promise to be back soon. Blake doesn't expect the parting hugs from the two of them but receives them all the same, touched surprise flickering across her features as she reciprocates.

"Be safe." Weiss says as she takes her first steps towards the door. "Don't be afraid to call."

"I'll keep in touch, I promise."

"Call me when she wakes up, okay?" Ruby squeezes her around the waist one last time as she makes the request.

"Sure. Take care, you two."

Her amber eyes track them until they're out of sight, a tired sounding sigh slipping through her as their absence settles on her shoulders. Having them in close proximity was doing a hell of a job keeping her anxiety in check, but now there is absolutely nothing standing between her and the golden bear in the room. Taking a bracing breath she makes herself move.

There's a chair situated against the wall, her steps are quiet as she fetches it, lifting it up so the wooden legs don't screech across tile while she moves it closer to the bed. Blake sits down, initially in a side-saddle sort of position -visibly uptight- but then quickly shifts completely onto her backside. For the better part of an hour she simply sits and stares, her gaze occasionally shifting from her lap to her feet to the window on the far side of the bed. Every time she tries to look a Yang, the muscles in her back and neck stiffen and she just  _can't_ .

Blake doesn't notice herself dozing off, not until some untold time later -there's no longer pitch blackness in the window, but a wash of gray- when her eyes snap open with a flit of her ears in regards to noises in the bed. She stretches in a most feline manner as she roosts on the arm of the chair to lean over the bed, curious worry pulling her features inward. Then she quails when she realizes that Yang's eyes are open.

Glazed, lilac irises disappear and reappear between sluggish blinks, unfocused but fixed. Yang's chest rises and falls in quicker repetition but the motion is still full of lethargy. She tries to...to do something, of what there's no knowing for sure as she clears her throat and huffs, her head pushing and turning against the pillow and the mess of gold tresses bunching around her face and neck. She grunts and snorts, her head lifting an inch or two along with her left shoulder, but then she flops back into place, seemingly asleep again.

As much as the little voice in the back of her mind rasps  _no, no, no_ , Blake can't resist the itching urge to reach out. Her hand shakes a little, anxious, like reaching for the white hot element on a stove and knowing its going to burn like hell. Still you just  _have_ to _touch it_ .

But it doesn't burn, it doesn't hurt at all, really. It's strangely...soothing. Blake's fingertips smooth over Yang's knuckles, the spaces between her fingers until the digits loosely lace together, the faunus paying no mind to the strange feeling of medical tape and plastic tubing against her palm. She can feel a ripple of warmth exchange through the meager contact, just a whisper of magic that Blake doesn't mean to let go of but doesn't scramble to reclaim. Instead she settles down in the chair again, her free hand joining the other around Yang's.

But as wonderful as this is, how much at home she suddenly feels she is, the golden glow is tainted with threads of gray. It isn't right. Not fair. Not like this. Not while Yang is unable to consent to crossing that rickety bridge between them. Blake tries to pull away. Tries and fails, her ears snapping back within the bow in congress with a hitch in her breath as Yang's fingers tighten around her own. Her entire body tenses like a startled doe.

A few more slow blinks followed by an exhale that buzzes between her lips. "...Nurse?" Yang slurs.

For a second she can't talk, tongue tied. "N-no."

" _Fuck_ ,"

Another little shock. She can't remember Yang  _ever_ having used language like that before. But, with the subject broached, Blake thinks it might be a good idea to page Clint. Or Sterling. Or whatever. There's a button near the head of the bed for signaling the nurse's station down the hall.

"Scroll." Yang jerks her hand free to swat it around aimlessly, perhaps convinced she's actually pointing at something with some form of precision. Blake reacts, looking around the room with the expectation of finding Yang's belongings. She can't find anything but doesn't mind offering up her own, though not before locking it -a simple feature that has stood between countless innocent butt-dialers and disaster. She's certain Yang's ease in taking hold of the device is more muscle memory than conscious effort, doubly so as Yang holds the scroll above her and proceeds to drop it on her own face.

"God damn it." she grumbles, hoarse, peeling the scroll off her cheek and beginning to blindly jab the screen with her thumb while squinting at it. She doesn't seem aware that there isn't anything on the screen, but does appear convinced that she's accomplishing whatever she's trying to do.

"Morning, ladies." Clint strolls into the room, smiling in spite of having been on duty all night. "How are you feeling, Miss Xiaolong?"

" _Shush_ , I'm on the  _phone_ ." by now she has the scroll to her ear. It's upside-down but that doesn't stop her. Clint tries not to laugh as he rounds the bed and starts checking machines again. She's quiet for a few seconds after that, perhaps waiting for whoever she thinks she's calling to pick up. Finally "...Blake,"

Blake reflexively responds. "Hm?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm right," she stops, realizing what's happening. Her tongue is in a knot again, albeit briefly. She exhales. "Not too far away. Are you okay? You don't sound too good,"

"Oh my god," a lopsided grin leans across her face, her chest bouncing with a husky chuckle. "I'm  _great_ . I feel like I'm a hundred miles away right now. What about you...you safe?"

"As I can be." for a moment Blake wonders why she's doing this. Maybe it's because part of her believes Yang won't remember this later. Maybe she's just doing this to offer Yang -and herself- a little comfort. She would never be able to decide. "...I'm coming to see you."

" _Yeah_ ? That would be  _awesome_ , because I miss you. I miss you a  _lot_ ."

"I miss you too."

"I've been so lonely. Like...like a part of me is missing....oh wait," a little snort at her own expense.

Blake tenses. "...S-sorry. I didn't want...I had to. I...I had to keep you and the others safe."

"No," Yang's protest is a crackling whimper, a far cry from her tone only seconds ago. " _No_ ."

Clint moves around the other side of the bed, navigating between it and the chair. "Miss Xiaolong, I have to take your blood pressure,"

" _Rude_ ." she grunts, jerking away from him when he tries to take her arm. "Fuck  _off_ , I'm talking to my  _girl_ friend!"

Blake tries her damnedest to ignore the bright heat flushing her cheeks. "Y-Yang, don't fight him, he's just doing his job. You can still talk to me." and she almost smiles when all she gets in response is rough, garbled nonsense. "Just focus on my voice, you won't even know he's there."

Yang has the scroll propped between her head and shoulder, awkwardly doing whatever she's able to stay out of Clint's grasp until he finally gets a hold of her and slips the cuff around her bicep. "You've got a  _fat_ head." she huffs at last, giving up and glaring up at him with one eye open only half way. Clint just laughs as he works quickly, quietly.

The girls' conversation won't continue until he's logged all the information he gathered and leaves.

"...I want a burrito." Yang mumbles sleepily. Maybe her defiant rebellion against the nurse had been too much.

"Once you're feeling better I'll get you one. Promise."

"Sweet." a pleasured groan. "Now tell me I'm pretty."

"You're beautiful." Blake grins to herself.

It's quiet again, the faunus waiting a minute or two before looking to see if Yang is still awake. Doesn't look like it, both of her eyes are closed and her breathing is rhythmic again. As quietly as possible she stands up, balancing over the bed to retrieve her scroll. She grasps the hard edge of the device between her thumb and index finger, pulling little by little, able to liberate it from under Yang's cheek without disturbing her.

Then her eyes open again, though only part way. "You're not real."

Somehow Blake  _knows_ she's looking directly at her, maybe even right through her. Anxiety shakes her again.

"Had this dream a hundred times...you're not real." Yang's head turns against the pillow. "You're just gonna...disappear."

Blake swallows the new lump in her throat, uncertainty pulling her expression. She ignores the little tension in her back as she continues to lean over the bed. What the hell was she supposed to do? She thinks to just return to the chair, stay quiet, wait for Yang to fall back to sleep. That would be the easy thing.

But the time for  _easy_ is long gone.

Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth for a moment, her mind buzzing wildly before it comes back to center in one silent instant. "Not this time." she whispers, not entirely certain Yang can hear. Blake feels the scratch of tape and plastic on the inside of her wrist, looking down to see Yang's hand fumbling for contact with her skin. With a pulse of desperation she takes the brawler's bigger hand in her own and presses it to her own heated cheek, helping the calloused fingers form to her jawline. She watches Yang's face for some kind -any kind- of reaction.

Her blonde brows reach slowly upward and her eyes steadily widen though never fully open. Still Blake can see it, a staggering half-clarity that tells her Yang is just aware enough -just  _here_ enough- to know what's going on. Even if only for these few moments. With Blake's hand still resting over hers she feels for more evidence, tries to convince herself this is really happening. The silken warmth of her hair, her pricked, but still more human ears, the concealed length of her bow, it's all where it's supposed to be. Her eyes begin to burn but she can't feel it, her heart flutters and her breath staggers but she pays it no mind. An unrestrained tear rolls down her cheek with a faint flicker.

"You're here." her body shudders with something between a lethargic chuckle and a sob. "God,"

Blake teeters on her feet as Yang's arm circles the back of her neck and pulls, her instinctive resistance allowing Yang to somewhat sit up. The motion is awkward, stuttering, and a hard wince pulls across her face as the cords in her stump hit a snag.

"Unplug me," Yang snaps, half-pulling, "Unplug me! Somebody better un- _fucking_ -plug me-"

"Yang, stop," Blake braces Yang with one arm wedged beneath hers so she can use the other to cup her shoulder, encouraging her to be still. "Stop, it's all right. Just relax."

But she can't. Blake is here,  _really here_ ; Yang can smell her, can feel the warmth of her body colliding with her own, can feel the soft, almost purring vibration of her voice in the marrow of her bones. Blake's hand is smoothing down her back and her skin is  _livid_ from her touch. Asking her to relax under these circumstances is like asking a fish to climb a tree. 

Yang buries her face in the crook of Blake's neck and tightens her grip, her fingers hooking into her clothes. Her stump still unconsciously jerks in the brace, the machine it's attached to rolling towards the bed a full inch. Her body shudders and she begins to cry.

"I'm here," Blake repeats, her voice level though she feels her heart clenching hard enough to hurt, to threaten tears of her own. "I'm here and I'm not leaving you again.  _Ever_ . I swear."

 

 

Author's Note: The section with Jaune turned into something I wasn't expecting and longer than I planned. Normally I try to stay within my ten page max, but I suppose this was as good a time as any to deviate from that for once. The next few chapters will likely be set up with regular changes between Atlas and the Warren, transitions which will be clearly marked. Any questions or comments? Feel free to send them in. Still gotta figure out what to do about Mercury though, got two ideas which would be equally feasible, just can't decide. Happy new year, folks.

 


	21. Chapter Twenty

Sitting up is always the hardest part.

Not opening her eyes or acknowledging that she's awake, not registering the quickened stirring of her heart or deep draw of her lungs. Not rolling over in hopes of finding a more comfortable position to lay in -which is phenomenally easy in a fine bed like this. Not the hunger or the need to tap a kidney. No, it's sitting up, because for the last few days sitting up has felt like trying to rise from a casket that's already been buried ten feet down.

Still Nora knows she needs to sit up, to rouse herself, lest she chance being in bed the entire day; something a little nagging voice in the back of her head is thoroughly sick of doing.

_Ten more minutes._

No.

_Ten more minutes._

You thought that two hours ago. Get up. Come on.

_Ten more minutes._

Nope. The world doesn't stop just because you feel sad. Get up. People are depending on you.

_People are dead. Ten minutes won't change that._

Nora turns onto her stomach, her face shoved as deep into the pillow as possible, muffling a pitiful little whimper. _I_ still _have to get up. I_ have _to. Suck it up, buttercup._

She shudders with another small sob, still for a second or two, before propping her hands flat atop the mattress and pushing herself up. She shifts into a sitting position, her head and shoulders hanging, back hunched like it weighs a ton. A little grunt grinds its way out of her chest as she manages to lift her head, letting it droop as far back as it'll go, her features pulled with discomfort and resistance. She rubs her eyes, pushing the same hand through her absolute fright of bright red hair, doing herself no favors. The shock of red continues to stand up straight in several places, stubborn like herself.

Nora regards the lump in the bed beside her, the shape completely concealed by blankets. She braces herself on one hand as she leans over, pressing against the mass with the other. "C'mon, let's get up." she yawns, pushing a little more insistently. "You need a bath. You smell. Don't make me drag you. 'Cause I will." And only because she can't seem to muster up the gumption to outright carry him.

No response.

In some little way it hurts to move, like how your body hurts when you're ill, aching and fussing with every little gesture. She lurches out of bed with a plaintive groan, her feet dragging the floor as she rounds the bed, one hand on the edge of the mattress as she teeters on her feet a little. She'll shake him a second time. She can feel the fizzling fuse of her patience shrinking when he still doesn't react to her. Nora shoves him a little harder, still nothing, and once more only makes him shift a little, settling half on his stomach. She takes a fistful of the blankets and yanks them down, a portion of them firmly clutched against Ren's chest. A second, snapping effort pries it loose.

Nora knows he's awake, at least in some capacity. She can see it in the way his thin sable brows pull together, deepening the sleep lines around his eyes. He can be such a grouch sometimes, especially if you wake him up before he's ready. Unfortunately, with the nature of their moods as of late, he was never ready.

"I'm gonna run you a bath and you'd better have your eyes open by the time I get back." she grumbles as threateningly as possible. Which isn't much. Then she shuffles off into the adjacent bathroom.

Ren is coiled up into the tightest ball he can manage, it's comfortable even though he knows it doesn't look like it. He knows his hair is a mess, likely scattered across the sheets behind him in the pattern of spilled ink. But he's finding it difficult to care. The heavy, leadened haze of this breed of sleep leeches most notions from him, empathy included. He doesn't even have the innate desire to see to his personal needs, such as food and hygiene. He hasn't felt the urge to eat or drink in what feels like days. All he wants is to sleep. Sleep is easy, painless, more forgiving. His mind registers the rumble of running water and his vague thoughts recoil at the idea of getting up. He reaches for the blankets and pulls them back over his head.

"Oh no you don't." Ren couldn't see Nora standing in the bathroom doorway, fists on her hips and scowling. "I took it easy on you yesterday, but you _are_ getting out of bed _today_."

A little voice in her is telling her to leave him alone, even to get back into bed herself. Get back under the covers and disappear in the quiet warmth and shut out the world again.

_Nope. Not today._

With a deep inhale she puffs out her chest and marches to the bed, and this time she doesn't bother with tearing away the blankets. She tucks her arms around the mass beneath them and hoists Ren up as if he is little more than a pile of laundry, hauling him off to the bathroom, down comforter and all. She'll set him down easily, like he's something fragile, the blanket pooling around him on the floor as she meticulously peels back the linens he's holed himself up in. "Open your eyes," she encourages gently, trying to keep her patience together though he's being so difficult. Nora angles herself to look him in the face, just barely making out the flickers of pink irises between pitch lashes. "There you are," she smiles at him, patting his shoulder before stepping away.

Nora grabs the brush off the edge of the sink -Weiss had been so generous as to replace all the items they had lost in the airship crash- and proceeds to do something about her hair. As short as it is, and with its natural flare, it only takes a couple passes to make her look presentable. With the brush still in hand she returns to Ren, kneeling beside him on the tiled floor and begins to brush his hair. Though he's never said so out loud, Nora knows it soothes him, and she has a quiet hope it still does.

There are only a few tangles that come undone with a bit of elbow grease and quiet grunts on Ren's part, but he's visibly more comfortable as she smooths the tresses over the furrow of his spine. From there Nora stands up, putting the brush back where she found it before casually telling him to put his arms up, mimicking the gesture she expected and subsequently receives. She pulls his shirt over his head, partly mussing his hair, and tosses the garment over her shoulder.

"You're gonna have to stand up." her hands are on her hips and again, though this time she's smirking. She laughs a little when he somehow manages to shimmy out of his sweat pants without rising from his seat on the floor, giving her a look that anyone else would find neutral, but she knows he's just being smug. With a shake of her head she offers him a hand, helping him up and then walking him to the tub that's now almost full. As he settles into the water she shoves the pile of blankets back into the bedroom, closing the door once they're out of the way. After that she shuts off the water and dresses down, tip-toeing into the steaming water to settle behind her partner. It feels so good she has to wonder why they avoid bathing when they felt like this.

It's quiet as Nora goes through the motions with him -they had bathed together since they were kids, it's all but habit now. She wets and washes his hair first, twisting it into a tight enough bun to hold together once it's free of bubbles. There's a washcloth hanging from the wall that she snatches up and rubs over the flowery scented bar of soap before putting it to his back. Nora lathers him up from shoulders to waist, getting behind his ears and under his arms, passing him the still soapy cloth to wash his face as she rinses him off with handfuls of water.

"My turn," she announces. The two of them twist in place, changing position without actually going anywhere, bare skin skidding noisily on porcelain.

Unlike Ren, Nora is more than content to hum and purr her way through his practiced care, vocalizing how good she feels because she knows he needs to hear it. He works slower than usual, but she doesn't fuss at him about it. He's just trying to push through, just like she is but in his own way. _Give him another day_ , she thinks briefly. Just one more day of forcing him out of bed, making sure he takes care of himself, and convincing him to eat. He'll be all right after that. They both will.

When he's finished, her skin free of suds that now linger on the surface of the water in a thin foam, Ren tucks against her back, his arms around her and folding across her stomach. His chin rests on her shoulder, and he takes a slow breath that fills his lungs to capacity. They ease into each other, momentarily content. Nora rests her arms over his, her hands folding over his elbows as she tips back her head a little, offering a little kiss to the high, soft bend of his cheekbone. _Boop._ She thinks, smiling before she kisses him again. _Boop_. And then she wishes for likely the thousandth time that Ren loved her like shy, quiet boys loved loud and adorable girls. Loved her like she loved him.

When he gently turns his head and returns the gesture, just a little peck beneath her ear, she thinks she might get her wish. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday.

Nora has to nudge him with an elbow when she notices his rhythmic, snoozing breathing, waking him up and quietly insisting it's time to get out. He follows through without protest, reaching back to pull the plug on the tub before trying to stand up. Nora has to help him a little, the soothing warmth of the water having done zero to banish his lethargy. Likely it made it worse. By the time he has his feet on the tiles and is reaching for a towel, Nora is already stepping out into the bedroom in search of clean clothes. She'll toss him a fresh shirt and pair of sweat pants a few moments later.

Ren emerges from the bathroom with his hair combed and tied back per the usual, looking like a million Lien compared to before. It actually _felt good_ to be clean. It made him feel like eating. Yes, breakfast...or lunch might be more appropriate as he makes note of the brilliant sunlight coming through the window. He leans on one leg to look a little closer, catching a glimpse of the snow on the grounds below, the sight making him shiver internally.

His focus snaps together when he hears something, a rare sound that has never failed to make his heart clench. He turns his head in one sharp motion, his eyes settling on Nora's back as she sits on the edge of bed, and watches as her forearm draws across her face. She sniffles again and he's quick to circle the bed and see what's the matter. As his hand cups her shoulder he looks down, following the invisible line of her gaze to her hands, seeing her scroll, it's screen alight with color. It takes a second, but he realizes what it is, the photograph sparking a memory so heavy it forces him to sit down, making his partner bounce a little with the addition of his weight.

"It's been a year. Well...maybe more than that, but," Nora wipes her eyes, sputtering a little. "But yeah. I don't...I don't even know what made me think of it...I haven't looked at these pictures since they were taken." She had picked up the device just to check the time, and that simple task somehow got away from her.

Ren can feel an uncomfortable tightness pulling in his ribs just as he feels his brow lowering over his eyes at the little pain, a pain that refuses to stay little when he registers the dull shimmer of tears on Nora's cheek. He looks at her so he won't look at the scroll, won't look at the picture from what feels like forever ago when they were still kids learning what it meant to grow up. Part of him just doesn't want to see -to acknowledge- what they had lost; the tuxedos, the dresses, the innocence.

"She was so happy." Nora's voice is threatening to break now, though she tries to smile in spite of it. "I don't think I'd ever seen her smile like that before, you know?" she waits, watching as Ren eventually nods. Then her fragile smile breaks apart. "It's not fair. She _deserved_ to be happy."

Ren feels Nora's pain, he understands. His partner rarely kept her feelings a secret and had gone on several rambling tirades about how happy she had been to have a team of her own and someone she saw as a sister, paying no mind to the fact that she was a celebrity. Nearly from the instant they came together as Team JNPR all Nora had wanted to do was love Pyrrha and make her feel wanted -because somehow she knew Pyrrha felt alone, felt isolated- with the quiet hope that she would receive the same in turn. Nora wanted someone to share secrets with, to rely on, to shoulder girl problems with in a way that Ren never could. And for a time she had that, _finally_ she felt something that placated the emptiness brought on by being an orphan.

Then it was gone. Just like that.

"I miss her." Nora rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, still fighting the urge to cry. "I miss her, a-and I'm _angry_ , a-and it _still hurts_ ," she pauses to catch her breath, the hard cringe pulling across her face a reflection of her pain, " _and Jaune was so stupid_ ! _Why_ are boys so _stupid_?!"

How Ren _wished_ he had an answer, but all he can do is tuck close to her side, one arm easing around her waist. With a sigh and a slow blink, Ren forces himself to look down at the scroll, his eyes beginning to burn almost immediately as he takes in the still image of Jaune and Pyrrha dancing together. Pyrrha _really had_ been so happy that night, but only after their team leader had finally wised up. And it had all but slapped Jaune in the face. Ren suddenly finds himself considering the same question as Nora: why _are_ boys so stupid? Then again, maybe it wasn't so much boys in general, as it was just Jaune being...well, Jaune. As caring as he could be, and as much as he respected Jaune, Ren often thought his skull as more akin to a rock.

"I miss her." she whimpers again, a small sob breaking free. Her body shudders and she leans against him, unconsciously desperate to feel something stable.

"So do I." Ren exhales quietly, as if speaking any louder might make it worse. He puts his other arm around her, his fingers lacing together over her hip. Another slow blink allows the tears he's been resisting to finally roll freely down his cheeks, and for a spell they just hold each other and cry.

"I swear, if it's the last thing I do," Nora tries to collect herself, wiping her eyes and clearing her throat, "next time I see Cinder Fall, I'm gonna break her legs. And everything else while I'm at it. I mean it, she'll be tongue kissing Magnhild by the time I'm through with her."

Part of him wants to smile, knowing if she ever did get the chance that she was likely to do just that. To the letter. Another part of him hopes she gets that chance and that he gets to watch. Though Ren never thought himself as a vindictive person, he likes the idea of Nora delving out karma's will.

The pain tapers off, her eyes drying a little, and Nora starts swiping her thumb across the screen of her scroll, filing through a collection of photos that she had all but forgotten. All of them were happy memories, recollections of when they were still together as a team in their dorm room, the cafeteria, the library. A smile steadily replaces her frown, and a laugh breaks through when she finds the picture of them -Team RWBY included- at the noodle stand during the Vytal Festival. Even Ren manages a light chuckle at seeing Nora's cheeks stuffed full of food, himself wiping his mouth with a napkin, Jaune fumbling with his chopsticks mere moments before he surrenders to use a fork, and Pyrrha with her mouth open, seemingly content with the helping of noodles she's about to slurp down.

"Has Jaune seen these?" Ren chances to ask.

"I don't know." Nora shakes her head. "I...think I _meant_ to show him...just never got around to it I guess."

"You should try and send them to him. I think he would like it."

"I think you're right." Nora's smile widens a little. "But I want you to make me pancakes first."

"But it's almost noon." he can see it by the little digital clock at the bottom corner of the screen.

"My belly doesn't care what time it is and neither do I. Come on. It's about time I got you out of this bedroom anyway."

And even though he doesn't really want to, a part of him still whining to go back to sleep, he lets her take his hand and lead him out into the hallway.

 

_(--)_

The drugs are still making it hard to wake up. It's so warm down here in the dark haze between asleep and awake, it feels safe and soothing and just too comfortable to shrug off. Somehow her mind registers Blake's presence, she's nearby, and that's all Yang cares about. She could sleep days away knowing her partner is here. She isn't aware of it, but the drifting thought of holding Blake again draws a comfortable smile across her lips. Another thought follows immediately, the silent, reflexive intent to move her hand, to search for her. Her consciousness settles even lower when she feels smooth, calloused pads of fingers and blunt claws.

_There you are. Still here. Still real._

"Yang?" the voice is distant, echoing. "Ruby is on her way,"

_But I'm enjoying a killer nap._

"Weiss is coming too,"

Yang grumbles a little, putting up a bit of a fight. She's not ready for this to be over.

"She's bringing lunch for everyone."

"Hm?" okay, maybe a _little_ ready. Yang's head rolls against the pillow, eyelids lifting and falling asymmetrically. She wets her chapped lips with a slow pass of her tongue and swallows. "What day is it?"

"Same day. You've only been asleep a few hours." Blake smiles warmly as she feels Yang grip her hand a little tighter, watches her lift it to her lips to weakly kiss it. The faunus blushes and blames it on the drugs, a cynical part of her convinced that's the only reason Yang's acting this way. Still she'll enjoy it for now. "How do you feel?"

Yang hums against her knuckles, her lips lingering only a moment longer before she lets her hand fall back to its original place. "Like the color nine." and she laughs at herself, not really knowing why. Then the smile crinkles into something else, something clearly unpleasant. "Gotta pee."

"You want me to call Clint, or whatever his name is?"

"Hell no." She grunts and grumbles, trying to sit up and only partially succeeding. With one more push of her hand against the bed she makes it, slumping forward with her head almost between her knees. The world is swimming around her and her stomach flips. She lifts her head after several deep, panting breaths to steady herself, a somewhat drunk looking smile pulling her mouth. "I think I can still leak the lizard by myself."

"At least let _me_ help you."

 _Oh, honey, you don't even have to ask._ Yang's smile eases a little wider as she watches Blake stand up and then walk around the foot of the bed to the far side. For a moment she looks over the machine Yang's arm is hooked up to, curious.

"These usually have a battery to run off of, we should be able to unplug it long enough for you to do your business."

"Okay. Just give me a minute." Yang takes another series of deep breaths, still somewhat dizzy. She rubs her eyes, content to let her head rest in her palm for a moment. Then all of her senses center on the sharp jolt of contact between her shoulders, Blake's hand settling there. "Scratch?" Because morphine makes her _itch_.

The first pressing pass of Blake's fingernails across her back raises a powerful wave of goosebumps. Yang melts, her forehead almost touching the mattress as the sensation of bonelessness washes over her. Part of her hates that being touched still isn't entirely _good_ -with all the drugs in her blood she thought it wouldn't be such a big deal- but she bites back the reflex to shy away from it. She knows she wants this, wants Blake to touch her, to help her feel less broken and out of place. Maybe if Yang can just keep telling herself that it'll start being true and physical contact with someone else won't be such a fucking chore.

"Feel good?" Blake almost chuckles when all she receives is a drawn out and chesty groan, taking it as a yes. A few more passes before she stops, "Now come on, I'll give you more when you're back in bed if you want."

 _Oh,_ _so much want_. "All right, if you insist." Yang tips her head back, tossing her fluffy ponytail. "Wheel that thing around and lets hope for the best."

The endeavor goes along with almost no trouble, though there's a little delay in the beginning when Yang remembers she is also hooked up an IV. It's just something else she has to navigate into the small bathroom closed off from the rest of the room. Blake elects to wait, but not too far away on the off chance Yang needs help. She laughs to herself at the few expletives that echo through the door over the course of several minutes. The door opens up again after the expected flush, Yang offering a thumbs-up as she starts shuffling back towards the bed.

"Do you need anything else?" Blake asks once everything is back in place and plugged in. She patiently waits for an answer, noticing the sleepy droop to Yang's eyelids. Part of her refused to believe that even Yang could fall asleep sitting up, but she was ready to be proven wrong.

"Hm?" Yang tips her chin, turning her head in one quick twist. "Oh, no, not really. I don't think so...well,"

"What?" Blake feels her ears perk beneath the bow.

Yang smiles reservedly and then pats the mattress. "Sit?" And she loves how Blake doesn't so much answer as she proceeds to push her boots off and gracefully settle on the bed in front of her. Without even thinking she reaches for Blake's hand, and for a moment they just look at each other, Yang's hazy gaze fixed on the redness hidden in the darker tones of Blake's cheeks. "You know, if I'm coming on too strong, you can say so."

"Wha- oh, no," she sputters, waving her other hand dismissively, "it's fine. You've always been the affectionate one." For a moment she thinks back to Beacon, to Yang's knee-jerk desire to hug anyone and everyone she considered a friend. But she also remembers how she herself hadn't been on the receiving end of many of them, but that had been because Yang respected her quiet request not to be. Still, holding hands seemed fine -a little more intimate than she thought might be appropriate, but still fine.

Besides, Blake meant to take what she could get. No telling if she would get another opportunity once the other shoe dropped.

Yang inches one shoulder with a little hum. "And you've always been so damn cuddly."

Blake sputters, expecting a plethora of replies, but not _that_ one. She has to remind herself again that Yang is _heavily_ medicated, and likely wouldn't say something so forward under different circumstances, so she tries her best at a graceful recovery. "What can I say? Must be my animal magnetism."

" _Hah_ ," Yang exhales, "oh my _god_ , I can't believe you actually said that! _Ha-ha_ ,"

God it feels so good to hear her laugh again, such a warm and wonderful sound that Blake had foolishly deprived herself of for months. _No, not foolish. I had to. I had to keep them safe. Keep_ her _safe...so I could hear her laugh again._

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Blake's attention snaps back to center, not realizing it had wandered away. She registers the sympathy -maybe worry- in Yang's eyes and swallows. "I'm fine, just distracted. Sorry."

"It's okay. Hell, you've been here all night _without_ the drugs, so I can't really blame you." a breathy chuckle. Then the wonky smile disintegrates and her eyes thin, focusing. "...Did you change something?"

"What?"

"I swear something is different about you,"

Blake's ears snap back against her scalp, pulling downward on her bow. _Oh god_. The moment of silence between them weighs a ton and stretches on and on, a few seconds seem like hours as Blake feels her heart rate spike and a wash of anxious warmth course from head to toe. Her aura bristles and she absently wonders if Yang can feel it.

Finally she swallows, taking a bracing breath. "A lot has happened in the past year, Yang. There's... _so much_ I've got to-"

"Hey, you're awake!"

Blake screws her eyes shut against a gust of air, and when she opens them again she first tracks the scant few rose petals fluttering around her, smelling them, before her brain can register the bright redness of Ruby's cape as she hugs her big sister around the neck and nuzzles Yang's hair beneath her cheek. Part of her is thankful for the interruption -she hadn't felt nearly as prepared for that conversation as she thought she would- while another part of her wants to put Ruby outside like one puts out a noisy pup for the night.

"Blake, I told you to call," Ruby still has Yang in something like a headlock, now looking at her other teammate with an obvious pout.

"I'm sorry. Just got sidetracked, I guess." Blake sighs, trying for a smile.

"You can blame me for that, Ruby," Yang wrests herself out her sister's grip, grinning, "we were busy making out."

"You're sure you didn't dream that, Yang?" Weiss chuckles as she steps into the room, the sound partially broken up by the crinkling of the paper bags in her arms. "I hear hallucinations are pretty common with anesthesia."

"Yeah, yeah," Yang groans a little, then smirks with a knowing waggle of her eyebrows. "So what'd you bring me?"

Weiss dons her own sort of smile as she starts passing out the bags one by one, starting with Ruby. "Only what you've been craving for the last week."

"Finally gonna give me cigarettes back?"

"Ha! They need to either _increase_ or _decrease_ your meds if that's what you're thinking." She laughs, but the shocked look on Blake's face isn't lost on her. "Still, I think you'll find this just as satisfactory."

Yang takes the brown bag, teetering a little as she almost overreaches. With just one hand she works it open and reaches inside. "I dunno, suckin' tar has a certain - _oh my god_ ," Yang can barely fit her hand around the foil covered girth of the burrito she pulls from the bag. "It's the size of a small _child_." And she finds it has noticeable weight as she tests it in her palm, in fact she would be willing to put Lien on the likelihood of smaller foods orbiting around it if they got too close.

Weiss looked thoroughly pleased with herself as she settles in the only chair, her own paper bag in her lap. "Ruby helped me, she made certain it had everything in it that you liked."

"So... _everything_?"

"Basically."

"And lots of hot sauce," Ruby added, digging through her own bag and pulling out a bottle that she twists the lid off of before passing it forward. "We got you a soda too."

" _And_ caffeine? Did you clear this with my doctor?"

Weiss nods, situating her food on her lap. "I was sure to call and check with her, so feel free to dig in."

"Damn," Yang groans happily, "now if I could just get laid I'd say today was a perfect day." she's content to laugh even though none of the others do. She then begins to unfurl the aluminum wrapper, letting it roll open without the burrito falling onto the blanket. Not that she would care if it did. "What did you get, Blake?"

"Fish tacos," she seems surprised to say, pleasantly surprised.

"They came highly recommended, so I thought you would like them."

"Thanks, though you didn't have to,"

"Nonsense, I wanted to. Besides, you've been here all night."

Yang has her mouth wide open and ready to take the first bite when she stalls, jaw still hanging, her eyes set on Weiss. "What the hell is _that_ sorry looking thing?"

"It's a veggie wrap. It's the closest thing they had to a salad."

"Oh, Weiss-capades, you poor thing," the brawler pouts, "why don't you eat _real_ food?"

"This _is_ real food." she protests, her brows lowering over her eyes.

"No, no, you need a home-wrecker like _mine_. Come on, that flat ass of yours will thank you."

Weiss exhales through flared nostrils, bristling. "My _ass_ is _fine_ , _thank you_."

"Yeah, her ass is fine!" Ruby chimes from her spot, propped against the bed frame with her mouth half full.

Weiss swallows noisily. _Oh my god, Ruby. Phrasing._

"Well, I guess you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Ruby?" Yang jabs, grinning like a fool. "Why don't you tell us just how fine it is?"

"Well, I mean, have you seen it?" she juts an open hand in her partner's general direction. "She dances, you know, so it's basically perfect. And -why are you laughing? I'm serious!"

Yang laughs behind her hand and her eyes are already starting to tear up as she watches Weiss' face. More so the steadily growing redness. Blake's lips are tucked between her teeth, a slight blush on her as well, and her eyes switch almost rhythmically between her teammates.

"So you think Weiss has a perfect ass?" Yang tries not to sputter.

"Don't _you_ ? _What is so funny_?"

"Come on, Yang, stop teasing," Blake almost fails to hide her laughter as well.

"No way, I've gotta see how many more colors her face will change before she faints." because Yang _swears_ the heiress is so red she's almost purple.

Weiss swallows again and takes a breath, straightening her back from its previously withered position. "Schnee's do _not_ faint. Now _eat_ or I will turn your burrito into a frozen doorstop."

The threat seems to make Yang straighten out rather quickly, her expression feigning hurt and betrayal as she tucks her lunch close to her chest. "All right, all right, just having a little fun. You know I only tease you two because I love you."

"Of course I do." Weiss nods, finally feeling the heat easing out of her face. She finds it in her to smile a little.

"Love you too, jerk." Ruby nudges her sister with an elbow.

"So have you sucked face yet?"

Weiss glares at Yang, the opal traces in her eyes glinting.

"Weiss let me hold Myrtenaster, isn't that kind of the same thing?"

" _Wow_ , you two might as well just get married then." Blake adds, trying her hand at teasing _just a little_.

"Not you _too_!"

"As long as I get to wear my cape," And somehow Ruby knows Weiss is about to pop her top, sensing cold spikes of aura, so she offers up a playful wink and a smile; a wordless reminder that this is all in good fun and she should loosen up a little. Just as Weiss tries to return the gesture, noticeably calmer, Ruby squeaks, lurching forward pelvis first away from the bed. Her scroll is vibrating.

All conversation stills as Ruby almost drops her food trying to fetch the device. The others watch and listen, waiting through a collection of broken responses and cut-off questions. All they know for certain is that Qrow is on the other end, but otherwise they haven't a clue as to what the seemingly quick and staggering exchange is about. In the end Ruby simply agrees to whatever it is her uncle is demanding before pulling the scroll away from her ear, staring at the screen with veiled surprise and obvious confusion. He must have hung up on her.

"What's wrong, Ruby?" Blake asks, her ears flitting inside her bow, concerned.

"I...don't know." Ruby shakes her head absently. "Qrow wanted to be sure we stayed here, he didn't really have time to explain." From what she heard over the connection, it sounded like her uncle had been in a terrible hurry, panting sentences coupled with the whistling of the wind.

 _Stay at the hospital. Don't any of you go anywhere alone. Watch you sister like a hawk._ -was the long and the short of it.

"Has something happened?" Weiss' snowy brows pull together, anxious.

"Like I said, he couldn't explain."

"Then we wait." Blake says with a certain, self-imposed calm. "We do as he asks and stay put. It's the safest place any one of us could be."

"I'm going to call Winter, make sure she's all right." Weiss moves to retrieve her scroll.

"She's still doing rehab, right? If she's here, tell her to come over. We could all hang out." Yang manages all this around her first big mouthful of food.

"Maybe. As long as you promise not to hit on her again, she'll likely agree to stop by."

"You kidding? I'm too busy soul-kissing this burrito. You can tell Winter we're through."

And the four of them share a somewhat tense laugh, Ruby finding herself fixated on the window and anxious.

 

_(--)_

Chasing Maidens is a business that gets real old _real_ fast, and it's a business that doesn't stop just because you happen to be lucky -or unlucky- enough to find them.

Qrow and Tag had been walking together with the intent to visit Yang at the hospital. As the pair turned the corner and came in sight of their destination, Tag paused suddenly enough to draw the huntsman's attention. He half slips on the ice and snow still on the sidewalk, turning with curiosity tightening his features. He doesn't get the chance to ask any questions before she leans into a full sprint down the avenue, forcing him to follow what he assumes to be her line of sight. Then another burst of motion catches his eye from a ways down the sidewalk, just short of the hospital entrance, and his aura bristles to attention.

At first he didn't understand, thought maybe he was just seeing something that wasn't there or wasn't important -chronic drinking does that. But at a second glance he knew what he was looking at: Mercury Black half concealed by a scarf and heavy coat. Tag must have recognized him from their encounter in the swamps in Mistral, and he clenches his jaw, part motivated -part frustrated, as both of them disappear down the street and around the next corner. He takes a few sparse seconds to call Ruby on his scroll -it's quicker this way- before shoving the device back in its place and taking up the pursuit himself. He'll cut down another side street, ducking out of sight before his form shudders and twists into a bird with a flash of crimson light.

Tag's focus is evenly but feverishly divided between the back of Mercury's head and the shock of cold and biting concrete on the soles of her feet. Initially she was mentally kicking herself for having forgone the earlier offer of shoes, but seeing Mercury's occasional slip on the ice _in spite_ of them silenced the little regret. However, after watching several sequential instances of the supposed misstep, Tag realizes he is using the slick surface of the pavement to better navigate sharp turns and gain an advantage. Mind you, Tag to could execute a similar movement, but it more so relied on whether or not the was an exposed pipe or lamppost on the corner for her to hook her tail to and swing herself around. The odds of that along these side streets is too low, he would easily outrun her at this rate.

For a moment she can't see him, his form having disappeared among the bodies along the sidewalk. By chance she spots the top of his head before he turns another corner; without a care for anyone watching -several strangers stagger away from her, one woman chokes out a dramatic half-scream, the faunus lurches into a seamless gallop on all fours with a push of aura, now using her heavily muscled tail as a rudder to maintain her balance as she cuts down the alley. What dreary sunlight there is breaking through the heavy grayness of the snowclouds above breaks up in the narrow confines of the alley, but this is the last thing Tag worries about. She takes the bend faster than she means, her momentum enough to run her a ways up the brick siding of a building. Once she's back on the pavement she gives another little burst or aura, closing the distance between her and Mercury by a yard or two before he turns another corner.

Coming onto the main thoroughfare she's greeted by a sharp pair of echoes of gunfire and the chaos of fleeing people. Tag weaves between the moving bodies with a natural ease, pushing through the crowds until she catches sight of Mercury again. A curse snaps through her mind as he steadily draws farther and farther away from her. Between the last of the hurrying civilians she spies Mercury about to turn again, suddenly stopping, his arms snapping up to cover his head. Something swift and black is dive-bombing him from overhead, little talons snatching at the back of his neck and a solid beak snapping at his ears.

Tag jumps onto the sidewalk, once again on two legs, and pauses only long enough to tear the lid off a nearby trashcan. With a hard twist of her entire body, propelling her into a precise three-sixty, she lets the aluminum disk leave her hand with enough velocity to whistle through the air. Somehow she knows it's going to hit, that's the only thing that keeps her from continuing her dogged sprinting. She watches, waits, and sympathetically cringes at the ringing, metallic _CLONG_ of aluminum meeting skull.

Mercury -more or less- belly flops to the street, his cheek smacking into a shallow puddle with bits of black asphalt sticking to his skin. Pain lances behind his eyes, from temple to temple, and he swears he's got to be bleeding from somewhere. Before he can get his palms under him to push himself up, he feels the uncaring jerking of a fist around the loop of his scarf, yanking him upward and partially choking him. That fist cinches the scarf painfully tight around his throat, the other snatching up one of his wrists to twist up towards his shoulder blades, and his isn't allowed to rise higher than his knees. He can't see who it is hunched behind him, but she can sure as hell _smell_ him.

"Long time no see, _lush_ ," Mercury rasps, "don't you have a bottle to crawl into?"

"Cut the crap, kid. What the hell are you doing here and how did you know to come?" Qrow growls behind him, torquing Mercury's arm a little more.

"What, a guy can't get around? It's a free kingdom,"

"Not for guys like _you_ it isn't."

Tag jogs up to them, panting and red faced, her lungs burning from sucking in cold air. She clears her throat, "Thank you, Mr. Branwen. Do you really have to hold him like that?"

"Do you really want to chase him some more?"

"Ah, fine point," she nods, pushing one hand through her hair. "Could you at least let the boy stand up?"

"He's fine enough where he is. Now start _talking_ ," Qrow insist with another punctuated jerk of his fist.

"Or you'll _what_?"

"Come now," Tag crosses her arms, dipping her chin to look down at him, "does it really have to be like this? Just tell him what he wants to know." and it's more of a meek plea than a demand.

Mercury chuckles dryly, tightly. "Take a walk, lady. I've got nothing to say to either one of you."

"Then I guess there's no point in keeping you _breathing_ , is there?" And Qrow almost smirks. Almost.

"Now wait just a moment, this doesn't have to get worse." Tag lets her arms drop as she takes a few steps forward and kneels down in front of them, angling her head until she meets Mercury's dark eyes. She takes a breath, seeming burdened, and then the nature of her expression flickers into something else. Something more stern, almost aggressive but quietly so. "I'm only going to _ask_ you one more time. _Please_ answer him. I don't want to force you."

Mercury just chuffs, his gaze breaking away.

Her brows flatten over her eyes with a reluctant shrug. Her head shakes a little, the motion almost missed as she rubs her palms together as if she's trying to warm them. Qrow watches her, catching the faint green glint flickering in the darkness of her irises as she reaches out to to cup Mercury's face. He feels the shift in energy against his aura, something warm and vast. But it's brief, like a bubble popping as she suddenly recoils with a hiss once her skin meets his.

"The hell was that?"

"I," Tag sputters, looking to Mercury and down at her palms, visibly confused. "...you have a mark on you, don't you?" She couldn't think of any other explanation; the feedback that had jolted through her had the hint of something magical that was both alien and familiar, like an estranged sibling.

"Yeah, it's right next to the Pumpkin Pete's tattoo on my ass." he grumbles.

Qrow rolls his eyes. "Check his pockets."

Tag looks at the grizzled hunter with stretching features. "For what?"

"Anything."

She doesn't want to do it, mostly on the account that she thinks it rude as hell to rifle through someone's clothes -especially if they happened to still be wearing them. Still she swallows and follows through, starting with the pockets in the lining of his coat. She finds a wallet that -upon brief examination- isn't actually his, and little else. Her hands push further to the pockets in his pants, her fingers almost immediately forming around something small, round, and flat tucked out of view. She digs it out in spite of Mercury's defiance, curious at what she retrieves.

"Awfully small mirror," she muses aloud as she looks it over. As she holds it she feels a little pulse of energy that draws her attention to the reflective glass, keeps her gaze fixed there.

"You don't seem like the vain type to me, kid."

"What can I say? It's easier to rob folks blind when you don't look like a thief."

While that was true enough, Qrow still knew damn good and well that isn't what Mercury is using it for. It looked too old, to unique. He could see it in the way the gilded frame seemed imperfect, all the details appearing hand wrought and obviously aged. "It's how Cinder contacts you, isn't?"

Silence.

"See if you can get it to work, Tag."

The faunus blinks at him. "Are you sure I _can_? Aren't mirrors a Witch's tool?"

"Maidens and Witches aren't so different. Just try, I think I hear the MPs coming."

Tag cocks her head, unsure what he means, but then her attention returns to the little looking-glass in her palm. She regards it curiously, turning it over in her hands perhaps in expectation to find something that might allude to how it's meant to be used. When she finds no such thing she tries a little heartbeat of magic as she looks into the glass. Something in the relic responds, her own image fluctuating until it disappears, the glass becoming cloudy. Whatever magic is in the mirror flares and courses warmly through her hands, almost soothing.

"Something is happening," she mutters, distracted.

Mercury feels himself start to shake a little. This was going to get ugly.

Qrow watches, anxious, hoping that whatever is coming happens before the Atlesian police arrive.

Tag's big brown eyes widen as something discernible pushes through the stormy glass, her surprise turning into wary suspicion. The energy in the mirror pitches harder, the once soothing warmth emitting from it suddenly feeling abrasive, hostile. The haunting familiarity she had felt upon touching Mercury roils in her aura, intrusive, and the pelt of her tail bristles upright when she comprehends the image of a woman with dark hair and smoldering golden eyes.

"Mercury, this better-" the woman in the mirror pauses, her previously unreadable expression abruptly twisting into a displeased grimace coupled with the bright burning of her eyes, " _who the hell are you_?"

 

 

Author's Note: This last bit was so awkward. Maybe it's the headache, maybe it's me, I don't know. I felt like I needed something in here to keep you guys from getting bored, because lord knows the entire story can't be about character development, right? -read sarcasm. I know I keep saying this, but I think I mean it this time: next chapter is going to begin regular scene transition between the parties, which will take place over approximately three months -in story time. These scenes will likely feel a little disjointed, and should be viewed as a sort of greatest hits or cliffs notes take on the story, sticking to the most important events to sort of move things along. I'm ready for the first arc of this fic to be under my belt. Thanks to Strayphoenix/fireonallwires for their help on this chapter, you're the best, Fam. And be sure to check out my tumblr @luckyfirerabbit.tumblr.com for news and updates and frivolous fun stuff.

 


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Tag can't find it in her to answer the biting question. Her jaw tries to work but the words don't form, the sensations traveling between the mirror and herself forcing them down; feelings so intense -so _other_ \- she can't even name them. They're like nothing she's ever experienced, so for several seconds she just stares back at the woman in the glass, dumb. And the faunus' reaction seems to only stoke the woman's apparent displeasure. _Nature's grace, those eyes_...

Qrow manages to catch her attention with a sharp tip of his chin, gesturing wordlessly in the hopes that she'll understand his intent. She does, and quickly turns the mirror towards him, unsure what makes him smirk.

" _The hell is this_?" she hisses.

"Nice to see you too, Cinder, it's been too long." Qrow is almost smug. "Now, this is probably going to be a long shot, but your boy here isn't too keen on speaking -what's he doing here?"

For several seconds Cinder glares through the glass, seething, her lips just parted enough for flickers of ivory to show between them. But just as quickly the restrained fury dissipates into something like a comfortable neutrality. "We're old friends, aren't we? And what kind of friend would I be if I didn't look in on you and your brats from time to time?"

"But I've got a sinking suspicion _he_ was planning on doing a lot more than looking." Qrow scowls when he makes note of a little smirk on her lips.

"Maybe, maybe not," Cinder inches her shoulders, mildly amused, "I'd hate to ruin a good surprise."

"On the contrary, by all means, spoil it for me. I insist."

"You're no fun." And she laughs at him. The bitch laughs. "Though, by the sounds of it, you believe you suddenly have the advantage,"

"Don't I? I've got your Joe Friday, and if you don't start talking, I'll see to it that he does. Atlesian style interrogations have a habit of making folks socialize more."

Cinder chuffs. "For all the good it will do you. Mercury is more so the 'I say jump and he asks how high' sort."

"Come on, give the guy a little credit," he gives Mercury a little shake by the neck, "I'm sure there's _something_ I can make him give me that you don't want me to have; like how you and Salem seem to be rubbing elbows." And he spies a minor quirk of her eyebrow, a tell. "Or maybe how a Grimm-human hybrid started running around and pulling Atlesian airships out of the sky."

That little quirk morphs into a smoldering scowl, and as the expression becomes steadily more severe, Tag can feel a hard, hot pitch in the energy surrounding the mirror. Her eyes flicker from it to Qrow, her worry clearly visible. Something then draws her gaze to Mercury, she can see him sweating, and it looks like his dark eyes are doing everything they can not to focus on the woman in the mirror.

"And besides all that," Qrow continues, "I bet with enough coaxing he could tell me where you and your lot have been holed up. What kind of stuff am I going to find there, seeing as you're collecting focuses and all?"

For a moment Cinder says nothing, her irises burning so hot they're nearly white while the rest of her expression goes unchanged. In Tag's hand the metal frame is almost too heated to hold and the magical residue coursing through her rolls under her skin as goosebumps of the vilest kind.

"By the time we're done, I'm going to know everything but your dress size,"

Cinder's eyes thin. "...I don't think so."

Even Qrow feels the pitch of energy, the air heating enough to dissipate the flurries hanging around them before they touch the ground. Tag moves suddenly, a burst of motion that has her half standing before her feet spring off the ground, her waist twisting as she swings her arm and hurls the mirror to the ground with a keen squeaking noise. The frame is glowing with heat and breaks up against the pavement with a loud hiss and the minor crash of fractured glass. Mercury suddenly jerks in Qrow's grip, his head snapping back and almost smacking the older huntsman in the face. Out of some reflexive instinct he lets go of him, watching with a sort of disgusted confusion as the young man flops over on his side, his body shuddering against the wet asphalt as if in seizure. A dark pool of blood is forming beneath his head, gushing from his nose, and a trail of it forges across his throat as it spills from his ear. His eyes have rolled back in his head.

Tag's compulsion overwhelms her in an anxious instant and she scrambles to him, taking Mercury's head in her hands. She feels the heat of a Maiden's mark on the back of his neck, too hot to touch, and she can see the brimstone glow of it through his hair. Without a thought her magic pushes through her hands and into him, but the mark makes it spark back to her with the scathing shock of a blown fuse. She tries again, with a greater push, and it snaps back to her just as hard, hard enough to physically _hurt_. Her heart jerks, she can't do anything for him. Her jaw hangs open and she looks desperately between Qrow and the prone body in the street, helpless.

"Do something!"

"It's too late." Qrow is already shaking his head. He's not sure how he knows, but he does. "I'll have the cops call an ambulance, maybe they can help him, but I don't think he'll make it."

Tag just looks at him, dismay stretching her features a little further. After a moment she takes a breath, shrugging, composing herself with a touch of resignation. Guilt is rippling through her at the behest of her compulsion; she should have been able to help him -she _wanted_ to help, but...

"So _that_ was Cinder?"

Qrow nods with a chesty rumble. He looks away from her, hearing the not too distant commotion of cars, and leans on his leg to wave down the police once he sees them. "You felt her, didn't you?"

Tag swallows thickly, nodding. She can _still_ feel her, a smothering, sweltering heat lingering in her chest, making her feel somewhat feverish. "And this boy is...was her ally?"

"It seemed that way."

Her brow furrows, pulled with confusion and a touch of sadness as she looks down at Mercury, the seizure having stopped. His chest is still moving with compulsory breaths, but she can't help but wonder how long it will continue. "...Why would she hurt him like this?"

"She wasn't willing to take the risk, simple as that. She's always been a step or two ahead of us and she means to keep it that way. People are disposable to her."

In a way the faunus understands. If this woman is indeed the Fall Maiden, she would be subject to compulsions as well. Fall was the time of harvest, of pruning the dying branches and the knee-jerk instinct to secure survival by any means, to tie off, or sever, loose ends -everything Spring is _not._ And while their magic is cut from the same cloth, Tag is well aware of the abrasion of opposition between her magic and what remains of Cinder's.

"But he wasn't the only one...makes me wonder where the girl is."

"Should I try to find her?" Though she knows it will be difficult to do, especially if she is marked as Mercury was. Tag had never heard of a Maiden that could block the magic of another like that.

He immediately shakes his head. "Not by yourself, and I need to check on the kids. The whole lot of us need to be better about sticking together now, especially if Cinder's found out about any one of you." Because he feels it in his bones that Mercury didn't just _show up_ here, just like he hadn't just _shown up_ outside the hospital that his niece was admitted to. No, he _knew_ , somehow he knew. "Especially _you_."

Her face scrunches as she finally straightens. "I'm no more valuable than the others."

"Yes you are."

Tag crosses her arms and cocks her head. "I'll be damned if I let you or anyone else put my well-being before those girls."

"Sorry, otter-mom, but that's the way of things." he almost smirks. "Even if Salem can't gain control of Spring, losing you would put us at a greater disadvantage than we already are. If shit hits the fan, you're plan B. And you're the only one."

Tag scowls a little harder, her dark eyes dropping back to the pavement, to Mercury. He's still breathing. "If you say so."

"Look, if it's any consolation, we'll stay long enough to make sure he's taken care of. Then we need to get back to the kids."

"All right." she nods, reluctant.

 

To the south, in the middle of the sea spanning between Vale and Mistral, Cinder leans against the railings of a ship as she stares menacingly into the vacant glass of the small mirror she still clutches in her hand, her simmering anger whitening her knuckles. _Fucking inconveniences._ Cinder pushes the relic back into its pocket before she breaks it, not in the mood to go hunting for another one this portable. Her chest expands to capacity with a quick shrug, the gesture doing nothing to quell the stirring, frustrated heat in her chest.

Still smoldering she looks across the deck, focusing on the pink and brown and white of Neo's hair more so than the way her hand sneaks its way up behind the man that seems to be trying to talk the ear off of another passenger. Her deft little fingers lift his wallet. Cinder grins as she opens the billfold with practiced ease, pinching Lien bills between her two middle fingers and closing it again before returning it to his pocket. He was completely unaware. Gods above, she was _good_.

The smirk fades with the biting whisper repeating in her mind, her brows drawing towards the middle. _Inconveniences_. There had been too many of them lately, she feels. Mercury was brash, foolish in some cases, but Cinder had never thought him to be _stupid._ That aside, she certainly never entertained that he would be sloppy enough to let the old huntsman catch him. Part of her mind simply couldn't wrap around the concept in spite of what she had seen through the mirror only moments ago.

 _That faunus...a Witch? Maybe..._ There could be countless Witches hiding out in the backwoods bloodlines of those jungle dwelling rats. Who's to say?

And where was Emerald?

Her scowl deepens, the muscles in her jaw tightening as she worries a corner of her lip between her teeth. Cinder had tried contacting Emerald with no response. That already made her suspicious as Emerald had never failed to return a summons like that. Initially she thought maybe something was wrong, perhaps the mirror she knew Emerald carried had been damaged or stolen -wouldn't _that_ be something?- but now she's suspicious as hell that something is terribly out of place.

_It can wait. It isn't important right now._

True enough. Cinder relaxes with a long exhale, her breath almost hot enough to see in the chilled air. What _is_ important is her focus. What's important is that gut deep emptiness that calls out to the part of her that's missing, the part of her she's been missing most of her life whether she was aware of it or not.

She follows the pull of it when she can feel it, hence her heading to Vale. It's curious and discouraging when she realizes it tugs on her in phases, coming and going in no certain pattern. Sometimes it lingers for hours, giving her clear heading towards the west, and other times it's only a moment long enough for her to notice its presence before it disappears again. Even when it's gone, however, she still follows, she still makes her way west until her intuition dictates otherwise.

_May the gods help whoever has it._

And she can't help but smile comfortably, part of her hoping someone does possess it so she can enjoy taking it from them. Then she laughs a little to herself as she watches Neo, now walking towards her and smugly counting the Lien she had lifted.

 

_(II)_

 

Jaune doesn't know how he managed to sleep most of the day away. It really isn't like him, more so a behavior brought on by the flu or some other illness. But sure enough, some time earlier that afternoon he went up to his bed, only partly realizing he was doing it, and slumped onto it to fall asleep almost immediately. He didn't know it, but his mother would check on him from time to time, resigning to let him sleep because she knew he still needed it.

He wakes himself with a particularly hard snore, his head snapping up from the pillow with lethargic confusion pulling his heavy seeming brow together in the middle. He groans, his head dropping back to the pillow as he blindly smacks the nightstand in search of the lamp and turning it on. Another groan as he forces himself to lift his head again and meet the light. Eventually he rolls onto his back, twisting his clothes until they sit right on his frame again. Sitting up makes him acknowledge the stiffness in his muscles -he must not have moved an inch the entire time he slept if he feels like this- and then he rubs his hands over his face before pushing them through his hair, rousing himself the rest of the way. With a grunt he makes note of the time, it's almost eight o'clock, long after dinner, a fact he laments as his stomach rumbles. Maybe there'll be some leftovers...

Jaune laughs to himself at the idea.

Before he stands up he registers something against his bare foot, looking down to see his tattered backpack. For the moment it consumes his attention, something unnamed in him making him reach down to collect it, letting it sit in his lap. His hands are moving without a thought, pulling open the zipper at the front and delving inside, a small heaviness working through his heart when he feels the cold edges of bronze. With a long sigh he holds the coronet in both hands, seemingly unaware of his backpack slipping between his thighs to the floor. The pads of his thumbs smooth the edges absently, his mind surprisingly empty though he looks like he's trying to think.

_She's been so far from my mind lately...strange._

Maybe it was the convergence working on him, like it's been working on his dreams. Maybe it was something else, but it's been days since he had thought of her last, and he isn't sure what is more unsettling -how little he's thought of her or how he never noticed until now.

Another shrug helps him stand up, the coronet still in his grip as he shuffles for the ladder and starts downward. Reaching the floor below he forgoes his original thought of going to the kitchen, instead he turns the opposite direction down the corridor. He'll pass a couple of the other bedrooms before stopping, pausing in the middle of attempting to knock to laugh at the aged " _no boys allowed_ " message scratched into the door. After his knuckle pops against it there's a riot of sound from the other side like heavy bodies being thrown around the room. This brings him no surprise, in fact it makes him smile a little wider.

Jaune has to try not to laugh when Nessa pulls the door open, finding his big sister hunched over and in a secure headlock courtesy of Trixie. It's practically family tradition that the twins wrestle for the right of sleeping in the top bunk.

"What do you want, numb nuts, can't you see we're getting ready for bed?"

"Yeah, and I'm winning," Trixie smirks, wrenching her hold on her twin a little tighter.

Still smiling he answers. "I was...I have a big favor, Nessa. Could...you think you could fix this?"

Trixie unceremoniously drops her twin to the floor, her blue eyes widening when her little brother holds up the bronze coronet. Nessa is quick to stand up, shoving Trixie with one big shoulder to weasel a little closer. Jaune watches her as she takes it from him with noticeable care, turning it this way and that to have a complete look at it.

"Where did you get this, squirt?" her lapin ears quirk to match her uneven brows. "I _know_ this isn't yours, it's too nice."

"But it looks kind of familiar," Trixie's ears fold back as she squints at the ring of bronze, eyes thin and curious.

"It belonged to a friend of mine." is all he offers in explanation, a little heat rising in his face. "So...can it be fixed?"

"It's bent up pretty good...I'll have to eyeball it since I can't measure who wore it...but I think I can do it. It'll take a while, couple weeks maybe."

"That's fine. I just...I'd like to see it put right again."

Nessa nods. She sees and hears how much this seemingly little thing matters to him, and it leaves her with next to no room to turn him down. "Sure, little brother, sure. I'll do my best."

"Thanks."

"No problem," another punctuated nod, her ears standing upright again. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an asswhoopin' to dish out." She leans in to give him a quick kiss on the forehead and then slams the door ever-so-affectionately on his face. If Jaune didn't know his sister as well as he did, he would have been both offended and concerned, but he just smiles and shakes his head.

Finally he finds his way into the den, pausing in the doorway to take in the rest of his family gathered there. His parents are squashed comfortably on the recliner; Noah is fast asleep with his feet propped up and Gypsy is curled against him, her legs across his lap and her cheek resting against his head so she can easily kiss his temple. She's only partly awake herself, her ears relaxed and folded back, but not so far gone that she can't stroke her husband's hand rhythmically with her thumb as she holds it. Jaune spies a quilt on the floor beside the chair and picks it up, draping it carefully over the two of them, pleased with himself when his mother smiles.

Lola and her corgis are on one end of the sofa, Svengoolie in her lap - _his_ spot- with two on either side of her crossed legs, and Nord on the floor just to the side so Lola doesn't step on him should she get up. Bev -Veren, today, actually- busies themselves with scrawling notes onto score sheets, half squinting through their glasses. On occasion they reach out and pet one of the dogs. Alice is at the far end of the sofa, though not sitting on it -Jessica occupies that space with a sketch pad in her lap and a pencil in her teeth. Alice is perched on a stool and works under the light of a small desk lamp, pushing fabric gently through a foot-powered sewing machine, the whir of the gears barely enough to break up the sound of the television. Sometimes she pops off with the answer to the trivia game they're all watching or listening to. Yumi is nowhere to be seen, likely in bed. At least that's where she should be at this hour.

Jaune passes through the room unacknowledged but not likely unheard, the lot of them are simply too absorbed in their own tasks to greet him. He moves into the kitchen and switches on the little light over the stove, giving him just enough to see what he's doing. He opens the oven, finding a couple of covered dishes; he's not hungry enough to see what they are and closes it. He's not really hungry at all, but has a strange, empty need to have something in his mouth. He needs to taste something. Next he pokes his head in the refrigerator, pushing around a few cartons and bottles in search of something he isn't sure of yet. At the very back of the bottom shelf is a glass bottle that he snatches up once he recognizes what it is. Jaune has an excited smile on his face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as she searches for a mug. He's trying his best to be quiet -if his sisters knew what he'd found there could be a fight. No kidding, Jaune had witnessed Trixie drop-kick her twin across the kitchen with his own eyes for this stuff.

A simple drink made from fresh creme and spiced with cinnamon and vanilla, Gypsy called it orchati and only made it a few times a year, most often around Solstice and the numerous birthdays that came about in the Arc household. The matriarch brought it with her from Menagerie, having adjusted the recipe just so -the original called for black coffee, but that isn't nearly as accessible here as cream. Sometimes Gypsy would add instant grounds to it for herself, just to have a taste of home every so often -though it's never quite the same- while the rest of the family drank it as it is.

Jaune only fills his cup half way, leaving some in the bottle for anyone else who comes by it. He lets the first sip sit in mouth, cold, sweet, comforting, and when he swallows a little hum rumbles through him. It's _so_ good.

Then he's suddenly so aware of the noise coming from the television.

_"Observing the first anniversary of the Battle of Beacon; Join Lisa Lavender for a special two hour program as we examine the events surrounding the conflict, remember the ones we lost, and discuss what the Royal Council intends to do now. With the large Grimm still in stasis atop the remains of Beacon Tower and showing no signs of activity, will the council still pursue its plans to reopen the academy? All this, on News at Nine."_

Jaune feels an anxious heaviness settle on his shoulders, one he tries and fails to push off with a deep, stabilizing breath. He begins to stare into his glass, his head filling up with a deluge of thoughts and memories. His heart pounds against his sternum with noticeable force, making his brow furrow. He waits and only feels the invisible weight on him increase, so he moves to the table and sits down. He takes another sip, and another, then one big gulp hoping it soothes him. It doesn't. His face scrunches up, painful looking as he pushes his hand roughly across his scalp. He can feel a telling burn in his eyes, but sucks it down when he feels a little tug on his shirt.

"What's the matter, Jaune?"

"Hey, Yumi," he puts on a reflexive smile, sniffing, "it's nothing. Big brother is just tired."

"Oh. Then you should go to bed."

"I just woke up. I'm not sleepy now." he laughs a little. "But you should be in bed too."

"I was." she nods, her one limp ears flopping, "Then your thing woke me up."

"My what?"

"Your thing," as if repeating her previous explanation made things any clearer. Then she proceeds to shove his scroll towards him. "It kept going off."

Jaune takes it from her, leaning away from the table as she tries to crawl into his lap. "Yumi, you know you're not supposed to go in my room when I'm not there."

"I know," she replies simply, "but I don't listen to anyone else, so why would I listen to you? 'Sides, I go in there all the time even when you are there."

"Is that so? Well I didn't see you,"

"I know." she beams up at him before grabbing his mug with both hands and taking a sip.

His expression quirks again and he can't help but ask. "So...just how many times have you been in my room without me seeing you?"

"A bunch of _this_ manys," and she just holds up both hands, all fingers splayed apart so he can count.

He almost laughs. "That's not a nice thing to do, Yumi. You know better." and while he knows he should be firmer on the issue, he kisses the top of her head anyway.

"So why is it making all that noise?" she asks once she's settle against his chest.

"Looks like someone's trying to send me something." his eyebrows see-saw as he studies the cracked screen, his thumb moving over it to hit a selection of prompts. Who would be trying to...his expression softens instantly. There looks to be several messages from Nora; at a glance they look to be copies of each other, likely sent to make sure he got them. With a stroke of his thumb he opens one of them, first reading the text attached to several files. He was expecting something longer, more involved, but what he gets is succinct and broken sounding. The bare minimum of a collection of thoughts.

_Found these and thought you would want them. Let me know if you get them so I won't keep sending them. Ren and I are okay. Miss you._

"What is it?"

"I think it's some pictures." He smiles as his fingers work across the screen again. "You've never seen big brother's friends from school, have you?"

"Nuh-uh," Yumi folds her arms atop the table and props her chin on them. Her feet are kicking in the air beneath the table, her one erect ear ticking back and forth in the same rhythm.

Jaune knows it going to hurt. He knows damn good and well this is going to hurt more than almost anything, but a part of him wants to see. He has to look, he has to remember that things used to be good, that he didn't always feel like a chunk of himself is missing. The first image has his heart clenching right away; Beacon is in the background, flanked by a near cloudless midday sky, and Nora has her arm around Ren, squishing his face against hers so he'll fit in the frame. His expression is one of mildly exasperated acceptance, and if Nora's smile was any wider the top of her head would likely fall off. Yumi asks why Ren's eyes are shaped the way they are, Jaune casually explaining that his family had likely come from Mistral and that lots of Mistrali folks looked like that.

"He's skinny, doesn't his mom feed him enough?"

"Ren and Nora lost their parents when they were little."

" _Oh_ ," the sound is drawn out, "then they should come live with us so they can have a mom. Is that his girlfriend?"

"...You know, I'm not sure. I mean, they do love each other -take care of each other- I just don't know if they love each other like _that_."

"Okay...could _I_ be his girlfriend?"

"You're a little young to worry about boyfriends yet, honey-bunny." he chuckles, a little fraternal anxiety pulsing through him. "But, truth be told, Ren loves to cook, he used to cook for us all the time."

"Then he must not be good at it if he's so scrawny."

Jaune laughs again and slides his thumb across the screen, changing the image. The next one is the lot of them in Beacon's library, Team RWBY at the table across from theirs, Nora's absence from the photo alluding to her being the one taking the picture. Jaune unconsciously ignores the person seated next to him, reading one of his comics, and instead busies his focus with introducing Yumi to the other girls in the photo. When she seems satisfied his thumb moves again, the image sliding to the side and out of the way of the next.

"How come you got a black eye in this one? Did you get beat up?"

"Sort of." he cringes at the look of his own bruised face. "But I kind of deserved it because I was being dumb."

"Oh, okay." and that was the end of it, and this time she changed the picture with an unexpected swipe of her little finger. Then her eyes get big and her head lifts, cocking to the side. She looks up at her brother. "Why are you wearing a dress?" But he doesn't respond.

Jaune heard her, in fact the question is playing over and over in his head to try and crowd out the flood of memories trying to overwhelm him. One of his arms curls around Yumi and pulls her close, perhaps a subconscious bracing to soften the blow of his heart against his ribs. A thickness forms in his throat and his eyes start burning again. He couldn't ignore her this time, can't mentally erase her from the still image now that she seems to be the centerpiece of it. Everything in his head has become red and green and gold, everything is suddenly, commandingly about _her_.

Yumi's ears fold submissively, worried. "What is it? ...Jaune?"

He sniffs and tries to wipe his face on his shoulder, partly failing. "It's nothing, honey-bunny. I'm fine."

She turns in his lap, both legs draped across his thighs and she looks him in the face. Initially she says nothing, maybe studying him in a way that only a six-year-old can. Her hand settles on his chest, the rat-skull charm of the necklace beneath her palm. "Daddy says it's not good to hold it in when you're sad, he says you'll get seltzers."

At first he laughs, but then the tears come as he corrects her, saying "it's _ulcers_ , not seltzers." When his little sister tucks against his chest he drops the scroll and puts his other arm around her, squeezing a bit tighter. His mind is trying to put her between himself and the pain, thinking her little self more than sufficient to keep it at bay, but it still pushes through like slivers of glass in his skin. His brain is repeating the word - _ulcer, ulcer, ulcer_ \- to bolster its already meager defenses, to think of anything but _her_ , anything other than that night. It's not working. Just a paper tiger that wilts under the wetness of the tears now rolling down his cheeks.

In the den, Gypsy's ears slant forward and then up, turning towards the next room. Her brow furrows before her eyes open, blinking at the meager light. A gentle disturbance buzzes through her, a subconscious prodding that rouses her back to awareness and draws her smoothly out of her husband's lap. With hardly a sound and without notice from her other daughters she moves from the den to the dining room, her head cocking to the side at what she sees. Her mouth opens to form the first words of a question that she deems unnecessary half way through the thought. She knows what's going on. All eight of them were a part of her, blood and soul, and as mothers tend to do she knows when her children hurt. She feels a bit of it too, after all; she had felt it when Jessica came out to her year before last, when Lola lost her first service dog when she was sixteen, and now she can feel her boy's heart is breaking.

Without a word she approaches and sits down beside him, not too close or too far. The dull, anxious vibration that pulled her out of her light sleep amplifies now that she's near him, bristling as she looks Jaune over. Yumi meets her eyes and she reassures her youngest with a little nod. Gypsy smooths a testing hand across his back, her heart clenching at his subdued shudder in reaction to her touch. "My baby, won't you tell me what's wrong?"

He can't speak, it feels like he's got a stone in his throat. He can't even raise his head or open his eyes. He doesn't want her to see him, not like this. His mind is chanting louder still - _**ulcer** _ , _**ulcer** _ , _**ulcer** _.

Her ears droop, sympathetic. A little tick of Yumi's ear catches her attention again, directing her towards the scroll on the table that Gypsy thinks twice before picking it up, perhaps hesitant as to whether or not it was really her place to look. At a glance her face quirks, certainly not expecting to see her son in a dress, but she forgoes her initial notion to say something about it. Instead she focuses on the young woman in the picture, thoughts coming together to form little assumptions. She'll only study the image for a moment, acknowledging a strange itch at the back of her mind and mentally swearing she had seen the girl _somewhere_ else before setting the device back down.

"Come now, son, take a breath, you're turning a little blue," actually his face is as red as can be, but the fact remains that he was holding his breath and that just isn't a good thing to do. Gypsy continues petting his back as he chokes through an exhale and unsteadily draws air in. "Please talk to me, Jaune."

He wipes his arm roughly across his eyes, sniffling again and still trying to catch his breath. A part of him is scrambling to say something if for no other reason than to put his mother at ease, to convince her this is nothing more than just an emotional hiccup and it would pass given enough time. But he never _could_ lie to her, to her face or otherwise. His jaw works pathetically, leaving him speechless and staring at the table.

"Can I chance a guess?" because she thinks she knows. Because Jaune is so much like his father in that he is uncomplicated, a simple man with simple needs. "You lost her, didn't you?" She watches him nod, a little gesture that anyone else would have missed.

Jaune feels his stomach clench against thoughts he _can't_ allow to form as words in his throat. He can't say out loud that she's gone because he was weak, because he couldn't convince her that she wasn't strong enough. He can't say that he gave her permission to throw herself away, because that's what he fucking did. _The Pyrrha Nikos I know wouldn't let anything stand in her way._ And it echoes across his mind like a death sentence, and that's what it had been though he was wholly unaware of it at the time.

Deaf, dumb, and blind. As usual.

"Oh, my boy, I'm sorry," for the moment it's all she can think to say, her arms curling around him to draw him in, encouraging his head to her shoulder. "Can you tell me what happened? Maybe it would help,"

Jaune tries to focus on the feeling of her fingers in his hair, her blunt claws at his ears and scalp. The chanting in his head has morphed into something else, another word he can't let go; _murder, murder, murder_.

Gypsy feels as though she gives him ample time to speak, receiving nothing, and resigns to his silence. Some things simply can't be eased that way, and that's always difficult for a mother to accept from her children; you just have to let them cry it out sometimes. So she holds onto him, whispering little encouragements -"I'm here, it's okay, I know it hurts"- and hopes it helps. She can feel Yumi's doing the same but in her own way, her little arms as far around her brother's chest as they can be. Gypsy can feel the bristling attention of her other daughters in the next room, feel their energy drawing near and surrounding them. She doesn't have to look up to see them coming one by one into the room and finding a place. Lola settles on Jaune's other side, leaning until her shoulder rests against his, and finds her mother's hand across his back. Alice eases in next, covering her brother's back with her body and putting her arms around him, kissing the top of his head. Jessica comes in on her mother's side, always having been hesitantly affectionate to _everyone_ but she knows she needs to be here. Jaune needs her and she can make an effort for him. Veren is last, sitting across the table and reaching out until someone in the mass of bodies takes their hand.

And the lot of them pour all the love they can muster into Jaune, praying its enough to stifle the incredible pain they know he's feeling.

The twins would have been more than willing to contribute, had they not managed to punch themselves out.

 

Billy is sitting on the short flight of steps just outside the front door, elbows propped on their knees and fingers laced together beneath their chin. They aren't used to this sort of cold and they shiver stiffly from the bones out. They watch their relaxed exhalations come out as clouds of steam lit up by the lone lamp beside the door behind them. They had initially come out here for some quiet isolation, something they don't usually feel a need to have, then again it is a rare situation to be in a house full of total strangers. As kind as the Arc family has been, they're still unfamiliar.

In truth they miss home, they miss familiar stars, and most of all they miss their Maiden. They miss hearing her voice and feeling her touch and the endless warmth of her presence. Tag's words from days ago still hum through their mind. _I'm going to kiss you...you're going to let me._ They know they shouldn't have agreed. They know it and have known it since they became Tag's Guardian, but...

A big sigh expands and contracts their massive frame, a long and winding cloud of steam spiraling into the air. The weight of years of being cautioned by elders and neighbors not to pursue Tag is pushing down on them again, strangely in a more intense fashion than usual now that she isn't around. It's a notion that makes their brow crease, curious and troubled in equal measure.

_If nature had deemed things be any other way..._

At least that's what they would like to think.

Then their aura stirs, a knee-jerk wariness washing over them in a heated instant. It's not the first time they've felt this, more like the third or fourth just this evening, since they began sitting out here nearly an hour or so ago. Without moving they lift their eyes from the ground, scanning the treeline in correlation with the notion of where the disturbance is coming from. Everything in their view is washed in shades of gray, their night vision allowing them to see beyond the gentle glow of the porch light. At a glance there doesn't appear to be anything out there, nothing that shouldn't be anyway. Their silver eyes dart towards a sound only to see a pair of deer leaping out of the trees and quickly cross the grass to disappear again, but seeing them did little to easy Billy's suspicion. The animals wouldn't be chancing to run out in the open unless...

... _There_.

Billy can see its eyes, the bright verdant glow enough to create a black corona around it in the faunus' vision, making that the only visible part. Their aura bristles and all thoughts still, focusing to a razor's edge. They're almost sure the creature has been lingering in the trees for some time, maybe even days, just watching, maybe waiting for something. For a while it appears that the two just stare at each other, unknowingly wondering the same thing - _do they know I can see them._

Billy remains still and follows the green points of light as they shift, the creature moving without a sound. It skirts the edging of the trees, never setting foot onto the grass -the convergence keeping it at bay, and all the while it's eyes are fixed. There's a flicker of brimstone, little orange flames from its mouth that breaks up the darkness as it snarls just loud enough for Billy to hear. The blinking fire draws the bison's thoughts back, centralizes them on the day they first saw the awful Grimm-thing and fills it their head with the popping of embers, the barking of gunfire, and the screams of dying faunus. Their aura surges, bolstering the urge to stand up, to advance. To pick a fight. But they remain motionless, allowing their mind to seethe. Nature's grace, did they want nothing more than to go after the abomination in the dark -even empty handed as they are now- and put it _down_. Tag would forgive them, wouldn't she? In truth, the only reason she wanted that thing alive is because her compulsion wouldn't stand for anything else. But they don't shoulder that burden...yes, maybe Tag would forgive them.

Again, Billy and the Grimm are thinking in unison - _I want to kill you._

For Manticore it's a matter of instinct. It's all they know. But for the Guardian, it's all about debt. They were owed blood and they just wanted their due.

_But Tag said they could be human..._

And as the Guardian of Spring, there was a certain expected obligation that they live by the creed of their Maiden. But Tag had taken lives before, Billy had seen it, though it had been out of necessity in order to spare others. Wouldn't killing the Lion be the same in some way? They knew damn good and well that this thing only had one purpose -to kill- so what's the harm in stopping it?

_What's the harm..._

Their massive hands unlace and clench into easy fists, the wooden steps creaking under their weight as they stand up. They aren't even thinking about it, only half realizing they mean to step out onto the grass. That is, until the sound of the door opening behind them gives them pause. Looking back they see Jaune, their brow quirking once they comprehend the sight of him.

"You look like shit." they say definitely. "Your long rest not agree with you?"

"N-no, no, it's not that. I'm fine," though his eyes are red and swollen, like his face is in a way. He clears his throat. "Could...can we talk?"

A curt nod coupled with a hum. "What do you need?"

"...I think I'm ready."

They study the human for a moment, briefly unsure what he's talking about. Then they're aware of a...difference in him. Maybe it's the way he's carrying himself all of sudden, his posture lacking a certain slump and with his chin level when it's typically angled submissively downward. He looks them square in the face, which is something they honestly cannot remember having seen him do before.

They feel a bubble of amusement, but hold back the little smirk that goes with it. "For what, boy?"

"I'm ready to fight again. If you're still offering to teach me."

Billy nods, turning to face him, big arms crossing. "I am, but as I said, I'm neither gentle nor patient. I don't know how they teach at your schools, but in the jungle we fight for our lives and that's what I intend to show you. I'm going to need you to mind me, to trust me."

Jaune swallows a lump of uncertainty, the muscles in his jaw bunching. "I understand." And he nods as well, more so to convince himself. Because he knows they're right. He knows that's what this mess has become, a fight for their lives, and there's no more time for the steady day-to-day study of a classroom or the control of a sparring match between students. It's no longer a matter of pass or fail, it's life or death, and Jaune wanted to live.

Now Billy smiles. "You've done your grieving as I've asked?"

He swallows again. "It's a work in progress."

"That's something I suppose." it's better than nothing. "Tomorrow morning satisfy you?"

He just nods.

"Answer me, boy."

"Yes." he corrects himself quickly. "I have a name, you know."

"And you'll earn it once you can fight." Billy starts back up the steps, leaning a bit as not to knock into him as they push the door open. "Now, if it's possible, I'd speak with your mother."

"Sure, she's still up. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing you need to worry yourself over. Though you'd best get yourself back to bed." and they smile knowingly, stepping the rest of the way into the house.

 

Manticore watches, eyes having moved from the faunus to the human lingering on the porch. The Grimm bristles. Even this far from the convergence the Grimm can feel the energy picking at the threads that bind it to its host like one picks at a scab, pulling the two away from each other, pulling the Grimm away from the touch of the Witch still lingering in its head. Stepping outside the shadows of the trees brought it too close to the influence of the ley lines, the grass feeling like a bed of nails beneath it -a sensation even its host reacts to, an alien flicker of pain from the girl that makes the Old One mentally flinch. And now that Manticore can see the boy, can focus on him, that flicker is a steady flame against a raw nerve. It isn't exactly sure what to call the awful sensation that ripples under its skin, all it knows is that it doesn't like it. Emotions are for humans and humans -and faunus- are for killing.

So it waits for the chance to sate its instincts, not knowing or caring how long it would have to do so.

 

 

Author's Note:  This chapter feels a little odd, but it serves its purpose. Again, thanks to strayphoenix for their help, though I still don't think that first bit turned out like I meant for it to -and in all honestly I'm not sure what Mercury's fate will be. Things keep changing 'cause I'm lame. Anyway, next chapter I'm going to try and spend some quality time with our girls, and Jaune's likely to get slapped around a little before the day's done. Should be fun, right? Questions and comments are always welcome, and be sure to check my tumblr for any news and updates.

 


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

Today feels like a new day. Somehow Jaune knows it's not just a repeat of yesterday, but the start of something else. Something better. He has a noticeable energy in the way he rises from his bed and begins to dress. He snatches up his armor and Crocea Mors before starting down the ladder.

Gypsy and Billy are both awake and in the kitchen, bits of conversation drifting between them as they eat. When Jaune enters the room they both turn their heads and reciprocate when he greets them. There's already a plate waiting for him next to his mother, still warm, and he sets his gear on the table before sitting down in front of it.

"Glad you could join us, I was about to come fetch you myself." Billy waits for his eyes to meet theirs, cutting a strange sort of smirk.

"When you say it like that, I can't help but feel a little glad myself."

"How did you sleep last night, baby?" Gypsy asks gently, her head cocked so she can watch his face.

"Fine." he says quickly, scooping up a forkful of eggs and potatoes into his mouth.

His mother nods, though not entirely satisfied with his answer. She waits for him to swallow before offering another question. "...Is it that girl that's been keeping you up? Those stress dreams as you call them,"

_Her name is Pyrrha_. The thought pulses neutrally. "No, mom." he shakes his head, knowing it isn't the entire truth and hoping she won't suss that out.

"You know I'm still expecting an explanation, right?"

"I know." he nods this time, putting more food in his mouth. "And I will, just...not now. I need a little more time, okay?"

"All right." she pats his back. "I'm here when you're ready."

The three of them eat the remainder of their breakfast in silence.

"Now I'm going to tell your sisters the same thing I'm about to tell you," Gyspy begins as she gathers the dishes and totes them to the sink. "Billy says that creature's stalking the property so _not a one of you_ kids is to go _anywhere_ by yourselves; if you're not in this house, you're not alone, understand? You _always_ have someone else with you, and that includes _you_ , big-and-tall."

Billy makes a face as they rise from the table, shocked and confused. "But I-,"

" _No_ . _Buts_ ." Gypsy insists pointedly. "My Warren, my rules, and starting today _that's_ the rule. You break the rules, I tan your hide. Don't think for a _second_ that you're too big to put over my knee."

Billy's expression stretches a little further, their silver eyes moving between Gypsy and her son, seeing the human offer up the smallest shake of his head. _Don't test her_ is what they take from it, and choose to heed it. "Very well. I hear you."

"Good." now she is all smiles and comfortable again.

Billy swallows the little thickness in their throat, meeting Jaune's eyes again with something unreadable, though he understands. While they still have his attention they pick up their axes from the bench, tipping their chin and hoping he reads their intent. Jaune nods and gathers up his gear. He pauses long enough to kiss his mother and tell her loves her before following the other faunus out the front door.

The sun is just starting to lift above the trees and a feeble fog settles over the meadow surrounding the Warren. Jaune hears the little barks of Lola's corgis from the barn, knowing his sister has already been awake for hours tending the cows and other animals. Otherwise the place is quiet, the stillness broken up once by a formation of geese that honk as they pass over heading south.

They don't stray too far from the house, perhaps a few yards, and then Billy drops their axes in the grass. Jaune watches absently as they pull the borrowed blouse over their head and let it drop, trying not to stare at the big leather binder around their chest. A quiet curiosity nags at him telling him to ask about it, but his common courtesy suppresses the idea.

"So...how are we going to do this?" He asks, his uncertainty audible.

"First of all I need to know where you stand. I've seen you fight, but only so much, not enough for me to know what you can do. So that's where we begin."

He nods, pulling at the straps of his armor until they're snug, then he wordlessly secures his sword to his hip. "Okay."

"Okay." Billy mimics with a nod, leaning down and picking up their weapons. "Try to kill me."

"E-excuse me?" he sputters.

"I want you to come at me with everything you have. Show me what you've got."

He just gapes at them, a little color leaving their face. "B-but...what if I actually hurt you?"

"Then that will be one less thing you need to learn. Now let's go, I'm not going to wait all morning on you."

Jaune swallows. For a moment he's stuck in place, unable to force himself into action. Doubt whispers across his mind, telling him this is crazy, telling him he can't possibly do this.

_Yes you can. You chose this, now follow through._

That's right. He had to keep going. Keep moving forward.

Just as he sees them shift their weight, putting one big foot in front of the other, he draws his sword and allows his shield to unfold across his forearm. Two big steps close the gap between him and Billy, and he moves without thinking. Before he even realizes what he's doing he feels an incredible impact against his shield, shoving the ball and socket of his shoulder damn near into his throat. There's the song of stone meeting steel to prelude the hard dropping of his sword arm towards the ground. Then he's on his back, his feet swept out from under him.

The sky spins over him and his shoulder throbs, feeling like it's stuck.

"Get up, boy, we've barely begun." They grunt from above him. One big hand snatches the breastplate of his armor and jerks him to his feet. "Again."

Jaune's thankful that Billy gives him a moment to compose himself, and he takes the brief reprieve to roll his shoulder until it pops. Then his shield and sword are up again.

Billy lets him advance, sidestepping his easily telegraphed attacks, swatting his sword away. When he comes too close for that they give a heavy swing of their leg to his, making him stumble or retreat. Every move he makes offers up a little more information, more pieces to a puzzle Billy has been trying to put together since they first saw him fight. They're looking for the thing that would answer the recurring question of _how has he survived_ ? Already they can see he is woefully unprepared, untrained, so they can only surmise that there must be _something_ out of the ordinary about him that has allowed him to live this long. Although they would readily admit that he is nothing if not tenacious; every time they put him down he gets back up again. And they could see he had a natural strength, something that stood to be quite impressive with some attention.

Satisfied with seeing how hard he could give it, it was time to test how much he could take. Without warning the entirety of their temperament changed. Their previously neutral and studying expression twists into hard lines and a half snarl, their axes whistling in the brief seconds before they collide with his shield in quick succession. Jaune reacts as expected, ducking behind the steel barrier and planting his feet, setting himself up to be toppled over again. Billy watches his body as they continue to push, gauges his natural reactions to aggression, finding them to be just that -natural. He tenses, his thoughts likely breaking down to the most basic notions. A moment's pause on Billy's part allows him the time to retaliate, a trio of swings of his blade. An honest effort if nothing else.

After several minutes of this give and take, Billy puts Jaune on his back on last time, the human finally conceding with his hands in the air. Billy nods, understanding, and helps him to his feet.

"If it means anything," they make sure he's steady before releasing his hand, "you did better than I expected."

"...I'll take that as a compliment." he pants after a moment, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

Billy's brow quirks, curious. "You don't have much of an instinct for this, do you, boy?"

"I guess not. I wasn't raised to do it like you and the others. I mean, you've seen my life." and he gestures absently towards the house. "It's what I know."

"It shows, not that I mean that as an insult. It only means that we have more work to do than I thought."

_No surprise there._ Jaune chuffs to himself.

"But, as I said, you did better than I anticipated," they laugh, "there's hope for you yet. Now, let's discuss your stance."

 

_(II)_

The week passes in broken up fragments of asleep and awake, most of which Yang wouldn't remember in the long run. But she would never forget how happy she was to have Dr. Arcane tell her she could continue her recovery at the manor and then begin to carefully unplug her from the myriad of machines she had been tethered to. As nice as the staff has been, she is more than ready to leave.

"Your uncle is on his way," the doctor says in passing, regarding the machine connected to Yang's arm. "Here's hoping he brings you a coat because the snow has been _crazy_ the last couple days."

Yang just lilts her head to the side, noncommittal. The snow has never really bothered her that much, save for a few snowballs she took to the face as a kid, courtesy of Ruby.

"I'm going to keep you on the aura suppressors for another week, after that your body should be able to heal as usual without interfering with the circuitry. You'll have pills for pain as well which should be taken _strictly_ as prescribed."

Yang hears a few clicks from the machine, what sound like keystrokes, just before she feels a dull jolt in her abbreviated limb, the muscles clenching involuntarily. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't _not_ hurt either. She watches Dr. Arcane come to sit beside her on the edge of the bed and gently go for the straps on the brace to undo them, the loud scratch of separating velcro catching Yang's still dull senses a little by surprise. Her lilac irises lazily track the doctor's hands as she unwinds the bandages, her brain only half registering when she sees the last of the gauze being pulled way. Bright red and purple bruises rim the seam where flesh meets metal, and for a long moment Yang just stares.

"Looks good," Dr. Arcane nods, appearing pleased. "Now you're likely to still feel some tenderness around the surgical area while you're on the medication, so it's nothing to be worried about, but if it gets too bad -say a five or six out of ten- you're more than welcome to call me at any time. I'm fairly certain Miss Schnee has my number."

Yang just nods though she doesn't think her mind will hang on to the information for very long. That's just as well, the good doctor has already prepared a printout to take with her. She rolls her shoulder when Dr. Arcane pulls away, slowly, testing, then starts staring again, feeling like all this is only half-real. Where there had once been a tough cap of scar tissue is now a shiny disc of metal with an open recess, likely where the prosthetic limb was meant to be attached. She wags her arm like a dog wags its tail, a hint of drugged amusement sitting cock-eyed on her mouth.

Within the hour Qrow and rest of Team RWBY are there to pick her up, bringing her a change of clothes that Ruby helps her sister into, making sure she doesn't fall. All the while Qrow and Weiss and Blake stand and listen to Dr. Arcane's rundown of her at-home care, accepting the script for her medications that they can pick up on the way out. The older huntsman's attention shifts between the doctor and his niece, unconsciously considering if and when he's going to tell them all about Mercury -how that kid survived still blows his mind.

They need to know...but it can wait.

Yang fights being put in a wheelchair, her resistance consisting of griping that she doesn't need one all the while her body betrays her in the best way by following Ruby and Dr. Arcane's gentle direction. When they sit her down there's a dull and curious confusion on her face, perhaps wondering how she had been saying one thing but wound up doing something else entirely. Then she goes directly into assuring them she can wheel herself around, convinced she succeeds as she pushes with one hand against one wheel, possibly unaware that Ruby's helping.

Qrow will pick up the prescriptions from the pharmacist on the ground floor before catching up to help the girls put Yang into the waiting car. When they reach the manor he'll pass them off, explaining he was having a nap attack. Which is only half true; he's also jonesing for a drink.

Weiss can easily sense Ruby's relief at having Yang out of the hospital, and Blake's as well. The three of them manage Yang up the stairs and put her to bed as per Dr. Arcane's recommendation, the brawler still dragging between asleep and awake thanks to the lingering drugs in her system. The heiress goes over the pair of bright orange bottles of medication -one for pain management, the other a week's worth of aura suppressors, reading the labels carefully before arranging them on the nightstand.

"How often is she supposed to take them?" Blake asks as she comes to stand beside Weiss.

"The suppressors are once a day," then Weiss checks the other bottle again just to be sure, "the other one is three times a day. I'm going to set a reminder on my scroll to make sure she takes them."

"Me too." Blake nods, one hand delving into her pocket. In the corner of her eye she can see Ruby is doing the same. "So I guess we just...take turns? At least until she sleeps it off?"

"I don't see why not."

"I'll go first." Blake offers quickly, then looks to double back, her ears folding under her bow. "Unless....Ruby wants to,"

"Go ahead, I know she's safe with you."

"But my honor ain't," Yang slurs with a chuckle, "...pretty kitty." and then goes quiet again.

And while they won't make eye contact with her, Weiss and Ruby can almost feel the sweltering heat gathering in Blake's face.

"R-Ruby, I-"

"She's been doing stuff like that all week," Ruby tries not to laugh, only partly succeeding. "I may be the youngest one here, but I'm not stupid. If it's my approval you want then you've got it, I just think you should wait until she's...more awake."

"O-of course." somehow Blake knows she's blushing harder, though she initially thought the prospect impossible. "I w-wouldn't, I'd never...you know,"

"Yes, I know, I'm not worried." Ruby assures her with a little nod. "Like I said, I trust you."

Blake feels her heart clench, her anxiety sputtering into a low buzz beneath her skin.

"So are you going to stay with her or-,"

"Actually, Ruby, if I could cut in," Weiss does just that, "I'd like to talk to you...in private, if that's all right."

Now Ruby's cheeks sport a telling pinkness, her brows slightly raised. "Um...sure. Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Weiss shakes her head. "It's just...a thing. You know."

Her silver eyes thin, somewhat suspicious -though she thinks it's so cute when Weiss is uncertain, all that conditioned poise tilting to the left. "We'll check in with you after a while, okay, Blake?"

"Alright."

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do." Weiss smirks, restraining a giggle when she hears Blake clear her throat.

Ruby doesn't close the door all the way when she and Weiss step into the hallway together, an unconscious action that she can't explain. For a spell the two walk in silence, taking the length of the corridor to its end and turning the corner. Weiss absently asks if Ruby would like to take it outside, but she declines. "A little too much snow" she says. Weiss offers a sit-down with some coffee and hot chocolate, again she declines. Weiss feels an anxious unease creeping through her, her hands starting to fuss together.

"Weiss, what's this about? Is something wrong?"

_Not wrong. Just complicated._ "Nothing wrong. I just...I've been thinking and thinking...there's something I want to ask you."

Ruby smiles to herself. "You don't have to actually ask me out every time you want to have dinner with me. You can just say so."

"It's not that...though thank you for clarifying." One less thing to stress over. Because she was, doing literal gymnastics with her schedule daily to make sure she would have ample time to plan and execute something as simple as dinner.

"Then what is it?"

Weiss swallows. _I'm going make the most selfish request I've ever made in my life._ "I...I'm," _I'm going to ask you to put yourself between me and whatever danger is coming for me because I can't help myself._

Her compulsion as a Maiden has begun to rear its head and she hates it. She hasn't forgotten what Tag told her back in Mistral, how Winter is the season where one adapts and does all they can with what they have in order to survive. She acknowledges and respects the quiet instinct to consolidate whatever resources she has at her disposal to protect herself...but Ruby...yet she couldn't come up with a more suitable alternative.

They stop in the middle of the hallway, half facing each other, Ruby waiting for Weiss to lift her eyes and look at her. She'd have to be blind not to see that her partner is struggling.

"Come on, Weiss, you can talk to me. Whatever it is."

"I know it's just," she's holding the words white-knuckle tight, then "it's not fair. I know it isn't fair to ask this of you."

"What do you mean?"

Finally Weiss looks up, the opal fractals in her irises catching the light from the windows, dazzling. Worry lines her face and she can't even make the entire sentence perched on her tongue emerge, just "Be my Guardian?"

Ruby's brows jump for her hairline, a little gesture of surprise to coincide with the straightening of her spine. She sees the anxious anticipation skirting the edges of Weiss' composure and finds it kind of cute. Poor girl stresses too much sometimes, though she can hardly blame her.

"I know it's a lot," Weiss tries to plead her case, "a-and I know I shouldn't even ask, so I'll understand if it isn't what you want. Actually, y-you know, never mind, I'll-"

"You're rambling." Ruby smiles, her head cocked to the side, her gentle interjection enough to make her partner pause. She reaches out and takes both of Weiss' hands, partly to stop their mindless dithering, partly to help her focus, but mostly just for the sake of holding her because Ruby knows it helps more than anything. Then she laughs when she finds the swell of red painted across Weiss' typically alabaster complexion. "It's not unfair, and to be honest, it isn't a lot. I'm actually a little surprised you didn't ask me sooner."

Weiss' lips part as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

"I'm your partner, looking after each other is what partners do."

"I-I know but," Weiss sputters, her eyes fixed on their joined hands, "this isn't the same thing, Ruby."

"Why not?"

"Because...we're not at Beacon anymore. This is _real_. We could...you could di-"

"I know." Ruby interrupts, her insides tensing at the half formed word that she didn't want to hear. "But we both know that's just part of being huntresses. There's always a chance...one of us -even both of us- won't come home. But I think we've also gone way passed the point of no return, so we might as well do what we can while we can. You know?"

Weiss nods, though her brain is having a bit of trouble processing things through her surprise over Ruby's reaction thus far.

"But I want to protect the people I care about...the ones I love, that's part of being a huntress too, at least _I_ think so. So, if being your Guardian will allow me to do that, I will. I mean, like you said, everything is different now, and we need to do what we can to keep up."

For a moment Weiss just looks at her, marveling. "You...you will? You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Ruby nods slowly, her fingers curling around Weiss' a little more tightly. "I want to."

Weiss exhales, feeling like a two ton weight just tumbled from her shoulders.

Ruby's smile morphs into uncertain amusement, her eyebrows becoming uneven. "So...what do we do now? Is there something...?"

"Well, I mean," she's sputtering again, unable to follow through with an impulsive withdraw of her hands as Ruby holds too tight, "if you want my mark,"

Ruby seems to light up, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "What do I have to do?"

She tries to remember what Tag said, the two of them having talked it over maybe twice since they met. "Tag and Billy made a promise to each other. I guess we could do the same? I'm still learning, so,"

"It's okay." God, she really _is_ cute when she's flustered.

It takes a moment, but Weiss gathers herself together with a breath, her shock settling out of sight and out of mind for now. She releases one of Ruby's hands to hold the other in both of hers, turning it over and pushing up her sleeve to bare her pale wrist. Without really thinking Weiss strokes the soft skin below Ruby's palm with the pad of her thumb and the magic in her stirs. It's already reaching out.

"Want me to go first?" Ruby offers gently.

"No, I should." Weiss insists before gently clearing her throat. Then, after a tense moment of thought, "I promise...I promise to never ask you to do something I wouldn't do myself. I promise to protect you as much as you protect me...and I love you." the last part she blurts out like an afterthought. _Oh my god, oh my god, I said it, I said it....why is she staring? Why won't she respond...why in the hell is she smiling like that?!_ And all the while Weiss' thumb continues to draw systematic circles in Ruby's skin.

Ruby giggles quietly behind her other hand, rocking on her heels, not just at Weiss' apparent unease but at the cool tingle of magic working through her. Still smiling she looks back at her partner. "How am I supposed to top that? You basically said everything _I_ was going to say."

The redness on Weiss' face only spreads.

"I mean, really, that's all I have to give. I just want to protect you," another little giggle, "a-and I think I love you, too. But I guess that's good because it'll make me want to try that much harder." It has to be good, because loving someone is so scary. To get attached seems to ask for disaster, but Ruby can't help herself. And it isn't because of the money, or the company, or the notoriety of her name, it's because she knows the person underneath all that. It's because Weiss is her best friend and she would give anything for her.

Briefly they wonder in unknown unison if they're just being stupid kids, but at the same time they decide not to care and unconsciously take a step towards one another.

"So I promise all that stuff you said...and more once I think of it." one last small laugh and Ruby smiles wide enough for her eyes to close. "Okay?"

"Okay."

There's a sudden, gentle updraft of cold rising between them, pushing the half-wild tresses of Ruby's hair in unison with the chill that run's through her. Looking between them she sees Weiss' thumb having stilled on her wrist, and watches little flickers of light sparkling in her skin. The fractals split and fork, forming geometric shapes and angles that eventually create a definite pattern. The two girls stare in wonder as the magic creates the distinct outline of the Schnee family crest, solidifying their bond like ice on a still pond. Their auras flux together, stirring another little burst of moving air, and rose petals scatter around their feet as a manifestation of the excess. Though they aren't solid red now; they're scarlet and white osiria.

They look at each other, the new link between them tangible and resonating like a plucked string. Weiss can see a pale blueness rimming Ruby's irises, something so subtle that anyone else would have to consciously look for. But she knows it's there, just like she knows Ruby's heart is fluttering with muffled excitement, almost matching her own.

"You feel that too?"

Weiss just nods.

"So...now what?"

"I...I don't know." Weiss almost laughs. She's still got a near death grip on Ruby's hand. "But we shouldn't just stand here in the middle of the hallway...we look silly."

_Not as silly as I'm about to feel._

Weiss tenses, swearing she both heard and felt that statement, but she would only have a moment to consider it before Ruby closes the suffocatingly small space between them and kisses her. The world disappears as Weiss reciprocates, not realizing until this moment just how badly she wanted this.

 

_(--)_

For a long while Blake finds herself pacing the room, moving from the bed to the window, to the door and then back to the bed again in patterned phases. All the while Yang sleeps soundly, deeply, snoring away. Blake can't remember her having snored like this back in Beacon, but then again she hadn't been on high-test drugs. She still can't feel even a flicker of her partner's aura, that cold sense of absence only reinforcing the notion. Part of her can't wait until Yang has finally recovered just so she can bask in that warmth again.

Blake looks down at her, her ears flattening against her hair and worry tightening her brow. _How am I going to tell you? How can I tell you so you won't hate me?_

A shrug shifts her frame as she starts pacing again, ears still down and hands rubbing up and down her upper arms in steady cycles. She's been rehearsing in her head for days and finds herself doing it again now; she has yet to say a word to Yang in regards to where she's been and what brought about her becoming a Maiden -that she was a Maiden at all, really. She's too afraid.

On the one hand, part of her is fairly confident she'll face little fallout over what happened between her and Adam -she shudders lightly at the thought, a flickering memory of his enraged eyes when she last saw him. Like pulling a rotted tooth, it _had_ to be done. On the other hand...Raven.

She's looking at Yang from the far side of the room, watching for a moment at the steady rise and fall of her chest while her own clenches and stills. _I killed your mother. There's no right way to say that._ A part of her prayed that claiming self defense would save her, at the very least reduce the backlash to a survivable degree -give her a second to duck her head before the sky collapses on her. Weiss understood - _you did what you had to._ Ruby understood, too - _she attacked you, you had no choice_ . _Though...what's my dad going to think?_

But Yang...she couldn't predict what her partner would say or do, and the prospect is paralyzing. When her thoughts keep circling back to it she resigns to sit on the bed and meditate. Maybe that would smooth things out a little. Blake settles against the headboard beside Yang, just an arm's reach away. As her mind eases further and further down, the buzzing of her thoughts drowned out by the beat of her own heart, her aura begins radiating outward. It eases over Yang like a second blanket, keeping Blake in tune with her partner's body. If Yang so much as moves her big toe, Blake will know. It offers the faunus a sense of security that allows her to better relax.

Weiss and Ruby will look in off and on throughout the afternoon, staying for only short periods, long enough to quiet their own worries. The three of them come to the conclusion to just let Yang sleep and worry about her medication regimens when she wakes up -which Dr. Arcane had already mentioned would be acceptable. If she's asleep, she isn't in pain and her aura isn't fighting to be active, so there's no need to worry. Qrow will visit in the evening to offer Blake a reprieve so she can have dinner with the others, insisting gently when she initially tries to decline.

"You've been holed up in that hospital all week and the girls want to spend time with you. Who knows when you'll have this kind of time for it again?"

It's a fair point that she doesn't have room to argue, so she doesn't.

The conversation is casual but not without purpose. A majority of it consists of Weiss and Winter discussing the upcoming Solstice and whether or not the Schnee Dust Company would uphold the usual tradition of a party for the upper echelon employees -mainly the board of trustees and shareholders. Weiss has the most subtle but still smug upturn to her lips as she confesses an unlikelihood of the custom continuing, and goes on to explain that she thinks giving all the employees -anyone _other_ than the trustees and shareholders- a modest bonus would be much more appropriate. Winter smiles as well, seemingly in agreement, and the sisters share an amused chuckle.

"Besides, we've never spent a Solstice at home," Weiss continues, "as a family. Not that I can remember anyway."

"Not since before grandfather died." Winter adds. "You were just a baby."

Tag smiles with a little laugh, turning heads. "I bet Miss Weiss was a beautiful baby." she sighs absently, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, she was, there are pictures."

Weiss marginally blushes, trying to take the conversation in stride. "Here I thought those were reserved for my dates."

"And Ruby is more than welcome to join us." Winter's expression morphs smoothly into something comfortably self-satisfied as she meets her sister's gaze from across the table, unfazed by the chill that rolls over her.

"Guess a semblance isn't the _only_ thing that runs in this family." Daisy snickers, only partly to herself. But both sisters hear her clearly enough, the two sputtering in unison and making room for the others at the table to laugh a little. A little becomes a lot when Daisy comments how maybe the Schnee insignia should be a rainbow instead of a snowflake, though the joke is lost on Tag entirely.

Blake watches the older faunus, watches how the confusion never leaves her face even as the others try to explain what's so funny. _You don't get it because you're a feral,_ and the notion immediately makes her insides twist -she can barely believe she thought it at all. She knows Tag is from Menagerie's interior, and knows things are far different there than in the coastal villages where she herself had been raised, and there the word _feral_ only came up in hushed tones and angry whispers. Blake had heard it most often -most openly- during her time with the White Fang, used as a vicious insult towards other faunus who had refused to join the cause for one reason or another. But before the White Fang adopted the term, it had surfaced during the Great War under similar circumstances; a slur for those that refused to fight or chose to remain in the jungle and away from more _civilized_ company. Blake had only ever used the word out loud once, as dumb kids are sometimes prone to do, and her mother had been quick to make her regret it.

In truth Blake liked Tag, never mind that they had only known one another for roughly a week. There is an innate connection with being Maidens, their auras having been complimentary to one another, almost sisterly, and she finds a modicum of comfort in no longer being the only faunus in the group. All this makes her doubly curious as to why she would have such a disgusting knee-jerk thought in her regard. Thankfully it was just a thought and she shoves it down, making a mental note not to let it back into her head again.

After the conclusion of dinner, Blake only lingers a while longer to indulge a rare need to socialize before withdrawing. She'll stay just long enough to see the the photographs that had been previously discussed, finding that Weiss had indeed been an adorable baby. She won't see Qrow on her way back to Yang's room, and is actually surprised not to find him inside, almost upset with him that he would leave his niece alone. Then again, she still appeared fast asleep, so what risk was there? Blake quickly eases back into her previous place at the head of the bed, untroubled as she occupies the space. She digs her scroll from her pocket to read a digital version of a book she has read a thousand times already but knows once more won't hurt anyone.

 

Yang can almost feel her awareness coming back. She's been subconsciously trying to wake up for hours, since she left the hospital, but only now feels like she's making progress. Like steadily climbing a sheer cliff with your bare hands, Yang pulls herself out of the chemically induced slumber, eventually blinking up at the darkness of the ceiling above her. With eyelids half lifted she looks around, her mind noting the absence of sunlight without giving way to total darkness; there's an ethereal glow in the room and the source is nearby. Without turning her head she searches for it, finding Blake's face at the heart of it as the faunus looks down at her scroll. A comfortable warmth washes over her. _She's still here_. Yang means to reach out and touch her thigh, but only has enough agency in the limb to absently swat at it.

Blake immediately tears her attention away from the device, her bright amber eyes settling on Yang. She can see her easily even in this diminished light.

"Hey, finally awake?"

"Sort of." it comes out as a thick-tongued slur. "...Think I'm hungry." all she knows is there's a tightness in her gut that she doesn't like. Whether or not she actually has a taste for anything is debatable.

"I can get you something," Blake offers as she sets down her scroll, shifting in an attempt to stand.

"Wanna get up," Yang starts moving as well, her head lifting from the pillow with her chin nearly touching her chest and her arm tucking up under her. "Can't stand lying down anymore."

Blake hurries off the bed and moves to the other side, hoping to get to Yang before she can proceed too far with her intentions. "Let me help,"

"I think I've got it," Yang slowly, steadily swings her legs over the side and puts her feet on the floor, hunching with a drawn out groan as her stomach flips.

"Are you going to be sick?"

"Don't think so, just woozy." Yang grins with a little shake of her head. "Is it still the same day?"

"Yeah."

"Just wanted to know." she nods this time. Then she holds out her arm, "Help me up, please."

Blake takes it, pulling it across the back of her neck and rising as her partner does, her arm moving around Yang's back to help her stabilize. Yang's senses are far too dull to decipher the discomfort of physical contact.

"Where to?" Blake asks.

"Kitchen."

"I said I could get something for you," her ears fold back to show her concern.

"And I heard you. So are you going to help me or not?"

Blake scowls a little, though she relents. "Of course I am, you stubborn ass. Come on."

Yang chuckles. "You said ass."

Slow and steady. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Down the hall, down the staircase, and she only stumbles once, but Blake is there to catch her. Blake helps her to the table, angling a chair beneath her so she can sit down. "I'll be right back." Blake promises softly, waiting for Yang to acknowledge her with a nod before stepping away. Part of Yang wants to follow her, feeling like a lost puppy once she's out of sight, but knows it's better she stay put as she can still feel the earth moving a little beneath her.

Blake returns with a plate of reheated leftovers and a cold can of soda, having a feeling Yang would want some caffeine now that she was allowed to have it. She worries a little to see her partner with her head resting on her arm, looking like she passed out, but it dies away when Yang straightens again. She must still feel so tired.

"Want me to open this for you?" Blake wiggles the can in her hand just a little, enough to draw Yang's attention to it.

"Nah, I think I can manage." which she does. "Thanks all the same." Yang takes a little sip, quickly swallowing so can take a mouthful of food. It seems to spark her appetite as she's quick to follow that first bite with a second and third in quick succession. Blake just waits patiently in the chair beside her, thinking any conversation she might strike up could wait. Not that it would be long with the way Yang is shoveling down her food.

The plate is all but licked clean when Yang gives it a little push away from her, her hand moving quickly to her mouth to cover up a satisfied burp. She lounges back in the chair, arm draped across her stomach. "I think...I might need to go back to bed."

Blake is quick to move, reaching for the empty plate and can.

"No, let's just hang for a second." she's feeling sleepy again, but her body doesn't want to be horizontal again just yet. "No need to rush, is there?"

"Alright."

A strain of quiet passes between them, Blake unconsciously watching Yang's eyes as they ease open and closed. For a moment the faunus' thoughts drift away, lost in the lack of sound.

"Hey,"

"Hm?" Blake's ears prick atop her head.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course." never mind that she has no idea what she's just agreed to hear.

Yang's brows pull to the middle and she blinks slowly, maybe thinking. "You know...it fucked me up pretty bad when I found out you left."

Blake feels her guts pull into the tightest of knots.

"Now, don't misunderstand, I'm not angry with you," Yang assures her, going so far as to try and look her in the eyes. A part of her wilts when she sees the faunus' submissive posture, the downward slant of her ears and how her shoulders have inched a little higher. "I'm _not_ mad _at you_ , I promise. Just...I've got to get this out."

"...Okay." and she mentally braces herself for what's next.

Yang pulls her hand down her face, features stretching as she shrugs. "I don't remember a whole lot from after...you know. I mean, I remember what happened, just a lot of what came right after is pretty fuzzy. But I remember waking up...and the first thing I was aware of was people talking over me. Even now most of it is just...I don't even know if it was words at all or just noise, but," she pauses again, contemplative. Maybe searching for words. "someone said _she's gone_ and I freaked out."

Because Yang's most recent memory in that moment had only been an abbreviation of what had happened, fragmented but vivid images looping time and again, cutting off in the same place. Burning buildings and broken glass, Grimm and rogue Atlesian mechs, a faunus with hair as red as blood and eyes concealed by a haunting white mask -and Blake in the middle of it all with a blade pushing through her abdomen. So when your head is full of nothing but the smell of smoke and the heart wrenching fear of seeing your partner like that -when that's all your brain can fathom- anything else that gets in is going to either soothe or agitate it. And hearing _she's gone_ had agitated the fuck out of a half-comatose Yang.

"I thought you had died, because I didn't know that you had just...left. I mean, when someone leaves, you say just _that_ , right? You don't say _she's gone_. I didn't know they were talking about Pyrrha. You were all I could think about, so...you know."

But that's just it, Blake didn't know. Blake had left at her first opportunity once she knew her teammates were -more or less- safe. She didn't know about the abject dread on Weiss' face when she realized her father had come to fetch her. Or the quiet worry Qrow seethed with for days when Ruby wouldn't wake up. And she certainly didn't know about the violent panic Yang had -literally- pummeled her way through once she was aware enough.

Blake can't look at her, her ears folded down and her eyes fixed on her hands folded in her lap. "...I'm sorry." the words fight to get out, choked down to little more than a pitiful squeak.

"I know." Yang tilts her head in her partner's direction. "I remember."

Blake lifts her chin in an instant, bright amber with flexing black slits set on Yang. _Why is she smiling?_

"Everything's still kind of jumbled, even now...but I remember that. You held my hand." then the small smirk dissolves. "I'm just...I guess I'm just mad because...you promised you'd come to us, you know? You said you would talk to us." _And because I needed you. I would've given damn near anything for you to be there. I was so scared. I was fucking terrified and I_ still _don't know how to handle that._

Blake winces slowly, half shying away.

"It just...it felt like you still didn't trust us even though we were trying _really hard_ so you could. I mean, I get it, you had bones to bury...but we would've helped. "

Blake can feel a telling burn in her eyes, heat rising into her face, and the last thing she wants is for Yang to see her cry. Feverish thoughts are starting to swamp her mind, her heart racing under the weight of all the things she needed to say but didn't have the courage to. Her chin tucks again and her fingers curl against the top of her thighs, manifestations of the tension coursing through her entire body.

Yang is watching her, feeling a dull prickling in her heart. She shifts in her seat to face her partner with surprising ease and bends forward to smooth her hand over Blake's. "Please don't cry. I don't think I could keep it together if you did,"

A little sob couples with an empty laugh as Blake's posture diminishes further.

"I forgive you, if that's what you want, and I'm happy you're back with us." to be honest Yang didn't know what Blake wanted or needed to be okay. All she was certain of is that she would do whatever it took to give it to her. "And don't even worry about this," Yang waves her abbreviated limb, almost smacking the frame of the chair with it, "because I intend to take it out of Taurus' ass."

Blake pales and goes rigid, unconsciously pulling her hands away and tucking them against her stomach. She feels like she's about to burst, words threatening to rip their way through her like red hot shrapnel. Part of her wants _so_ badly to just let it happen, to abandon any sort of control she thinks she has and just let it all fall out. Anything to get rid of this horrible _pressure_.

"...Except I can't do that, can I?" Yang continues cautiously.

Blake lifts her head again, not caring that a single tear creeps down one cheek as her eyes widen.

"You already put that to bed, didn't you?" Yang almost smirks. Then she shrugs through a breathy chuckle. When Blake turns away for the last time, Yang nods slowly with another exhale. "...Guess you did." A part of her wants to be angry -a part of her _is_. A part of her wants to spit fire and pitch the biggest fit she's ever pitched. But she knows that won't do any good. What's done is done, and she needed to accept that. If RWBY would ever be a team again, would ever function in the capacity it needed to, Yang needed to learn to take what she could get and be grateful.

"I had to do it." she blurts out. "I had to. He was going to kill all of you if...I didn't stop him."

A long pause, then, "I understand." At least Yang liked to think she did. She was trying.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Nah." Yang answers almost too quickly. "Not mad. Just a little...stumped."

Blake gapes, her jaw hanging. Did she really say that? Somehow her tears dry up and her mind quiets, and while her ears are still slanted they don't telegraph a sense of submission. More so some mixture of disappointment and resignation. "That's it, you're going back to bed."

Yang just breaks into a long winded fit of nasal laughter as Blake drags her out of the chair and leads her back to her room. She's still laughing sluggishly as Blake helps her into bed, shaking her head against the pillow when Blake asks if she's in any pain and wants one of her pills.

Blake takes a moment to watch her, making certain she's comfortable. "I'll see you in the morning."

"The hell do you think you're going?" Yang grumbles. "Get back here, I don't want to sleep alone."

She doesn't argue, but laughs a little to herself and climbs into the bed. It takes a moment but the two compromise to lay close together, Yang's whole arm beneath Blake's head, framing her shoulders with Blake's head on her chest. For a moment they're quiet, nestled together and content.

Blake's ribs expand and contract with a sigh, her nostrils flaring as she draws in her partner's scent. "There's so much I need to tell you."

"...I gathered." Yang responds, slurring again. She's on the cusp of sleep. "If we're being honest...so do I."

Blake feels her brows pull together, puzzled -an emotion she momentarily ignores. "I'm scared."

"That's okay. Me too." and her bigger hand conforms to the round of Blake's shoulder, pulling her a bit closer.

 

 

 

Author's Note:  Holy crap, twelve pages, huh? I'll be. Anyway, that last part feels a little awkward but it still serves a purpose. I know lots of you were expecting some huge to-do about involving Adam, but this seemed to work out a lot better. As for the conversation about Raven, well...you know. I feel like it's something for Blake and Yang alone, so that's why Weiss and Ruby's two-cents were a bit of a by blow. Next chapter, we'll look in on all the kids again; Jaune's doing his best and the girls are just trying for the day-to-day. I'm hoping by chapter twenty-five I'll get back on track with the plot, but we'll see. Questions and comments are always welcome.

 


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

Jaune's sore. His frame quakes with fatigue and dull pain from overworked muscles that have been carrying him for the last week, carrying him through the multiple ass whippings disguised as training sessions. His jaw clenches at the body-wide stiffness that tugs on his nerve endings, each prickling ache supporting the initial warning Billy had given him: neither gentle nor patient. As true as the faunus is tall, and he's got the bruises to prove it. Said bruises having brought about the change in his training today. "Your aura needs work." was the first thing Billy grunted in his general direction this morning -this _early_ morning- to which he gave a reflexive nod without being fully aware of what they meant. It was true, so what would an explanation change?

"Your aura is...active, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Jaune nods as they step out into the yard in front of the house. The chill is particularly hard on him this morning.

"It behaves so strangely. I can feel it, it's quite large, yet I rarely see any evidence that you even possess it. Does it still heal you as it should?"

"It takes its sweet time, but yeah. It's complicated, like I've said before. It's touch and go."

"We need to find a way to fix that."

He nods again, agreeing, but has no inkling as to how that's going to happen.

For the longest while they face each other, Billy trying to stare holes through the human's sternum as they think and think and think. Part of them simply refused to believe this boy had been able to use his semblance to put a hole through the guts of the largest Grimm they had ever seen, but couldn't manage to resolve a few bruises and scrapes in a timely manner.

"Maybe I just have a hard time focusing...kind of always been a problem." Jaune half murmurs to himself as he straps on his armor. "Since I was little, actually."

"Perhaps, though you seem to come through under pressure. I've seen as much."

"Well, yeah, but that's talking extremes." he lilts his head, just catching Billy's eyes on him, not at all liking the glint of interest in them. An anxious feeling crawls up his back, like he knows he's got crosshairs leveling on him. He almost can't take his eyes off them to reach for his sword, his instincts telling him distinctly not to.

"Do you think it possible we could try to...replicate these extremes?"

His gut sinks. "I...I don't like the sound of that." he admits honestly, shaking his head. "Not at all."

"Then I would imagine you'll like the feel of it even less."

Connecting the dots between words and intent happens at varying speeds at this hour, but thankfully, Jaune's ability to do so is much quicker than he expected. He has just enough time to pull his shield to his arm, opening it up in a snap of metallic motion, and brace himself against the barreling impact of a massive body. All this happens in the span of a second, only preempted by a hot wash of energy from the faunus. Then his head is filled with a riot of sounds; his body pushed and dragged across the grass, the heavy fall of hooves, and the punctuated snorts of an incredible beast coupled with the _thump_ of its thick skull with his shield. Every time he tries to stand he's pushed down again, rolling end over end as horns hook beneath him and lift, sometimes throwing him with a toss of the bison's head.

Jaune lands hard on his side, rolling as he hits the dirt. He tries to maintain momentum enough to get to his knees, finding the stability to scramble to his feet and make a run for it. It's all he can think to do, his mind is full to the brim with the demand - _run, run, run_. Billy's right behind him, and he can almost feel hot and wet air on his neck. Part of him knows this isn't how this should be going. Part of him knows he needs to find a way to reach down and pull up his semblance, knows it's what Billy means for him to do. But he just _can't_ , not when he is also terrifyingly aware of the literal ton of flesh and bone stampeding up behind him.

Billy runs him down, hooking one ankle with their horn and pulling, making Jaune fall flat on his face and skid until his back bends and the tips of his sneakers nearly touch his head. With one big stride they're beside him, snout to the ground as they shove their head against him to flip him over with no more grace than one flips a pancake. They keep shoving, keep roughly rolling him across the lawn, hooves stamping in hopes of _something_ making his semblance flare. It's in there somewhere, they just needed to dig it out.

Jaune somehow gets to his feet again, spitting at the grass and grit in his mouth as he gains a few feet of distance. Legs pumping as hard as they can, he chances a glance over his shoulder, dread doubling over in his stomach at the sight of a silver mass. He doesn't know where he intends to run off to -and it doesn't matter so long as it's _away_. He rounds the house, Billy's hooves skidding and kicking up chunks of soil. He runs the length of it and cuts outward from the end of the empty gardens. For one reason or another Jaune is making a bee-line for the livestock barn, the shape of it steadily swelling in his vision as it draws closer and closer. _You can't run through that,_ comes a little thought that he somehow acknowledges over the fractured shouting of his instincts. _You'll have to turn eventually, you can't walk through walls, stupid._

A grinding, bellowing groan rumbles just behind him and somehow he manages to work his legs a little faster.

_You have to turn_. The barn is getting bigger, just like the weight of Billy's shadow on his back. _Just turn, that's all you have to do. Turn and keep running._

But he can't run forever, he knows he can't.

_You have to turn...turn and_ fight.

It's the strangest sensation of flipping a switch. Somehow he follows that spark of a notion and crosses his arms, his shield resolute to his front as he turns on his heel. His momentum continues to carry him, even off the ground, and he braces himself for the jarring impact he knows is coming. And now a new instinct rings through his head: _push, push,_ _ **push**_. Then he feels a pulse of aura. _His_ aura.

Jaune's eyes are screwed shut so he doesn't see the bright gold flash as Billy's head collides with his aura, the manifestation of his semblance. The energy pushes outward, heaving the bison in one direction and Jaune in the other, the human crashing through the side of the barn in a riot of wooden groans and snapping boards. Billy's shape ripples as they tumble end over end, eventually coming to rest in their original form and flat on their back.

Now the taste of dirt is coupled with sawdust and straw, particles and strands of both falling in his face from above as it settles. Jaune's head is swimming, his blood pounding in his ears, but he can hear Billy laughing, breathy jumps of sound that only confuse him further. Chickens are scattering around him, their little feet scratching over his arms and chest, feathers tickling his ears as they run by. Then there's barking and the wet warmth of swarming tongues.

"That you, Jaune?"

He opens one eye, looking up, at first only seeing blurred dog faces. Beyond that he makes out Lola, her lapin ears folded back against her cloud like hair, brow set in concern.

"How - _pfft_ ," dog tongue tastes terrible, by the way, "did you - _pfft-_ guess?"

"Only _two_ of us have a history of going through walls," she smiles gently, leaning on her cane to reach out to her little brother, "and Nessa's still in bed."

Jaune just nods, taking Lola's offering and thanking her once he's on his feet. He brushes the dirt and dust and straw from his clothes, the little dogs still circling his feet and whimpering.

"There it is! That's _it_!" Billy shouts from across the yard, all four corgis turning and starting to bark defensively. They're still trying to get up, uncustomarily stumbling in their attempt to do so. "I knew you had it in you! Now let's go again."

"You sure you're all right?" Lola still holds his hand, gripping it a little tighter.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Good. I'd ask for your help rounding up the chickens, but it sounds like you're still pretty busy." A little laugh. "But Trixie's going to be rather pissed."

"Thank god she's still asleep then." Nine times out of ten, if one was asleep, so was the other. Same way with the flu.

" _Well_ ,"

"...Shit."

" _Jaune_!?" the shout echoes through the barn with enough force to make all the other animals stir. "That better not be you or so help me, you won't _believe_ what's coming when I get a hold of you -even while it's happening!"

"Sorry about this, Lola," he hurriedly apologizes. "I'll help you clean up later if you still need it, okay?"

"All right, now you'd better run, Trixie's coming up fast." She should know, her ears are almost more keen than her mother's. She feels Jaune break away and sighs with a small smirk, then she feels the wind move around her as Trixie barrels by, shouting after Jaune.

"It's gonna take me _days_ to fix that wall!"

Then Lola's lapin ears snap back against her scalp again, this time at the behest of a big flex of aura that goes so far as to give her goosebumps. She hears the leaner twin go by again, although this time there's no sound of footsteps and Trixie passes at a much greater speed. Then there's another crash coupled with the harried whinny of horses. Sounds like Sasquatch is loose.

In the end, though mildly uncertain of what just happened, Lola just shakes her head and turns to walk back into the barn, clicking her tongue so her dogs will follow.

 

_(--)_

Manticore has to sustain its host. It has to keep the human alive, so it has to hunt. It doesn't like the cold -never has in all its existence- but it forces the too tight body it's trapped in to move from its makeshift den in spite of it. For eons it had dwelt in the sweltering heat and rot of the jungle, and somehow the Grimm had the capacity to long for it now as human muscles flexed stiffly in conjunction with its will. It stretches, body pulled taught with its head tipped back, jaws parted in a yawn, and its barbed tail coiled as tight as possible for an instant before loosening again. It moves quietly on all fours through the woods, towards the lake beyond the trees.

This early in the morning a thin fog sits atop the seemingly pitch black water -the lake was certainly deep- though it parts as the creature draws close as if it senses the weight of its presence. It walks the bank and scans the surface of the water, looking for tiny ripples or bubbles, signs of life from underneath. Eventually it squats at the edge, studying the stillness with its eyes moving this way and that, having perhaps spotted a darting shadow. It leans forward, one clawed hand steadily rising, hovering just outside its reflection. Even its tail stills mid-swing just before it reacts, one hand shooting into the water with hardly a sound and yanking back with a small catfish and black muck in its grip. Just as quickly its teeth snap around the fish's head and bite down with a jerk, the head of it coming clean off after its rubbery skin snaps. It chews noisily, fangs working through cartilage and bone with mechanical ease. The first thick swallow almost comes back up with a reflexive lurch of its host's stomach, almost like she's resisting. Ungrateful thing.

It takes another mouthful, its piercing green eyes fixed on the black sludge stuck to its hand with a hint of curiosity - _when are these_ feelings _going to disappear_?! The remains of the catfish flips and flops limply in its claws as it turns its hand this way and that, the mud glistening in the growing morning light. It has the most peculiar green sheen to it. Manticore hadn't seen anything like it since...since before it had been banished beyond the mirror.

Memories start sparking in the primal darkness of its mind -not its host's or the Witch's, but its own. Memories of its birthplace deep in the jungle and the endless thunder of waterfalls, of the massive crystals of black Dust that had been its lair that caught the sun with the glamor of countless emeralds. Then further back still to recollections of its creator, herself the shadow of a Witch - _the_ Witch that made all other things.

_You were special, that's why she made you. You were to protect her secret. The secret the humans took away and hid, horded when they thought you had been slain._ Because it had -in a sense- died before, centuries upon centuries ago, in the age where kingdoms were little more than the dreams of feeble men. Reduced to dry bones and empty skin, only to reform and begin again.

The Grimm growls low, the sound gargling through its still full mouth. Its stomach tries to heave again, this time in its own disgust at its thoughts being reduced to _words_. Horrible human utterances. Its fist steadily closes, clenching and pushing the black and green mess between its fingers. There's a cold buzzing in the host's skin, the Grimm underneath responding to the dull resonance of the black Dust. The lake is full of it; perhaps that's what drew it here, away from the convergence of the ley lines that threatened to rip it apart and closer to something more like...home.

Not that it's any more comfortable _here_ than near the Warren. It's still cold and it senses that it will only get colder as the days drag on. Its brain burns with the commands of the Witch that demand it hunt the human boy it _feels_ nearby but can't reach, all the while the meager flicker of its host's consciousness _resists_ , like being poked with a sharp stick in a soft spot. Some days it feels more like the poor girl is throwing a tantrum inside its skull, ripping away at the Witch's threads in spite of being much too weak and the threads being far too many -though some _are_ broken.

With a snort and a final swallow it returns its regards to the water, not yet full. It perches on the edge of the lake again, the natural fury in its eyes distant as it watches, patient while blood and chunks of catfish drip from its chin. Shadows scatter beneath the surface as a glob of offal hits the water, ripples breaking up Manticore's reflection. Without its notice it begins to stare, losing focus on its task to fixate on the shuddering shape of itself. When the image stills its head cocks to the side, studying itself -likely- for the first time. A strange realization flickers across its pale, vein-shocked face before its brow pulls inward to a savage slant, its mouth flexing into an open snarl. There's a flicker of fire in its throat before it jerks away, appearing disgusted.

It saunters back into the trees to hunt something else.

 

_(II)_

Qrow swears to himself that if he lives to see the end of all this, he means to take a vacation in the middle of nowhere and not even  _think_ the word Maiden for a month. Keeping track of them all can be such a chore. Still, it's a burden he willingly bears. He grumbles and grunts to himself as he navigates his way through the hospital, having left the girls in the waiting room for Yang's appointment -it's been three weeks and they mean to attach her new arm for the first time today. He said he would be there for it, but first he needed to find Tag. She had left the manor that morning without a word to anyone, he only knew about it after a good half-hour of quiet panic when Weiss called Winter on the off chance that the eldest Schnee had seen her; turns out the faunus went with Winter and Daisy to the hospital, no explanation as to why.

He'll check the ground floor, then the second, the third, and releases a quiet shrug of relief when he meets Tag on the elevator as it opens up to the fourth floor. Propped against the wall inside he watches her step in, chin tucked, posture diminished. She looks troubled.

"You've got to stop running off without telling anyone." he shrugs, thinking whatever is on her mind can wait.

Tag sighs, some of the tightness in her dispelled, though only visibly. "I told Miss Winter."

"But  _she_ didn't tell anyone."

"And that's my fault because...?" she offers him a playful half-smirk.

He scowls, lips thinning. Then he shakes his head as he leans to tap one of the buttons on the panel, the elevator doors sliding closed. "Keeping tabs on you lot is like herding cats."

For a moment she has no reaction, then she snaps her gaze to him, obviously confused. "... _What?_ " Because her mind is racing to decipher the meaning -why would anyone herd a cat? Are the cats in Atlas like the cats back home, because if that's the case they will most certainly  _not_ take well to being  _herded_ . And how on earth does that have anything to do with  _this_ ?

"It's just a saying." he gives a dismissive wave of his hand. "So what did you come here for?"

"...I was looking in on the boy. Mercury."

Qrow nods, understanding flickering across his face. "Anything?"

Her brow knits again. Then "What does brain dead mean? I think I understand just...I've never heard it before."

"Did the doctor not...?"

"I didn't ask." to be true, she already thought the man was looking down his nose at her the moment he laid eyes on her. She wasn't about to ask for a patronizing explanation.

"To put it simply, it means the lights are on but nobody's home. He's alive just...not here."

"I...I'm sorry, I still don't...this is new to me."  _And none of this makes sense. He feel's alive -that boy is still_ alive, _I can still feel it, but these...machines are breathing for him, keeping his heart beating. What kind of life is that?_ "Why would  _anyone_ do that to someone?"

He inches his shoulders, wordless, feeling as though the question is more rhetorical. "Does he still have Cinder's mark?"

"I think so, yes." she's rather sure she felt it coupled with his life force like a red hot coal. "I still can't do anything for him."

"Not that these white coats would let you. Still," he pauses to think, "maybe if we stop Cinder we can help him."

"It's a nice thought." nice, but little else, and it hurts her to accept that. "Are the girls with you?"

"Yeah, they're downstairs. Yang's getting her new arm today."

"Oh," the faunus seems to brighten up, "do you think it would be rude of me to join you?"

"Not at all. The kids seem to like you,"

She smiles like someone who's just been wrapped up in a perfectly warm blanket, seeming to simulate the physical feeling by hugging herself. "That's good to hear. Though sometimes I feel like I'm intruding."

"You're not. I think it's just they lost a lot of time together after Beacon fell, they're trying to make up for it. Otherwise, most of them didn't really have...mothers growing up -I don't know if it's conscious or not, but I think they kind of see you like that."

"Really?" one sable brow slants, curious, "I suppose that's where the nickname came from, then?"

"Guess so. Does it bother you?"

"Goodness no," in truth it makes her heart soar. That coupled with the little thoughtful inclusions from the others -Ren and Nora inviting her to spar with them over the last couple weeks, Weiss and Ruby coming to her to brag about Weiss' recent magical achievements, and the occasional high-five from Yang- fills her with so much joy she could burst. "I'm flattered. Still, I thought I would ask, just trying to be polite." She smiles at him as the elevator doors slide back and the two step out.

 

_(--)_

"Good to see you, Miss Xiaolong," Dr. Arcane greets her with a big smile as she steps into the examination room. "Looks like you brought the whole family,"

"What can I say? I tried to leave them but they just keep following me," Yang chuckles from her seat, exchanging glances with her teammates who stand along the wall beside her. "So what kind of torture you got in store for me today, doc?"

"Only the best for my favorite patient." she's pulling a wheeled cart behind her with a technician on the other end. Atop the cart is a box, a stack of papers beneath it, and Yang's prosthetic arm in all its metallic splendor. "Courtesy of Miss Schnee and the Dust Company."

Yang can't believe how excited she feels, she certainly didn't expect to. She had expected anxiety, maybe even aversion to the idea of looking at what's about to be a part of her body yet still unattached. But she's ready for this - _so_ ready. Without thinking about it her hand reaches out and finds someone else's, looking over to find Ruby smiling back at her as she curls her fingers.

"Now, we've got some shop to talk before we get down to business." Dr. Arcane almost laughs at the disgruntled huff Yang pushes out. "I've got your basic maintenance kit here as well as instructions," she takes up the box and opens it, "you don't have to wear the prosthesis all the time -in fact for the first few weeks I suggest you only wear it no more than six hours at a time, depending on how you feel- so you have these rubber caps to put over it when not in use. You can bathe with them, and they're matched to your skin tone so they don't stand out too much."

Yang's brows rise, surprised at the careful consideration. "Aw, Weiss-cream-sandwich, I didn't know you cared."

"Call me that again and I'll care a lot _less_."

Dr. Arcane is doing everything she can not to laugh, a feat she better accomplishes when her head turns towards the door, seeing two more coming into the room. "Ah, Mr. Branwen, there you are, good to see you. And...?" one salt-and-pepper brow rises -she knows the faunus, just not by name.

"Tag," she offers up a gentle reminder.

The doctor nods, turning her attention back to Yang. "You'll want to keep the port as clean as possible, the instruction manual goes over several options for that and the kit comes with some soft brushes to get any dust or debris out of it. Now I expect you to _actually_ read this, Miss Xiaolong,"

"C'mon, doc, you know how I feel about instruction manuals." Yang rolls her eyes, feigning a little groan. "Just put it in me already." and then she grins as Blake clears her throat and then gives her a wink when their eyes meet for a second.

"All right." Dr. Arcane concedes. "Now you won't have control of the limb right away, it may take up to a minute before you can move it -it's just all the electrical crap doing its thing. And I have to warn you, the first connection tends to be a little intense."

"Intense how?"

"I've had patients describe brief but severe pain, muscles spasms, mood swings," she takes up the prosthesis in both hands, pausing to think.

"Damn, you promise?" Yang laughs, only sounding somewhat sarcastic.

"I've done dozens of these procedures and no two have been alike, I'll admit, but, as I said, the episodes were brief. You ready?"

"You bet, doc, I just need you to give me a hand."

The responding groan is unanimous.

But underneath all the jokes and smirks, there's anxiety. As ready as she is, there's still a tingling trepidation as she stares and stares at the new limb, mainly at the thin, fragile looking metal spokes that emerge from the open end of it. She knows where they go, deep into the manufactured opening in her stump, and the fact rattles her. _This is nothing, I've been through worse. I'm going to be fine. Ruby's here...Blake's here...we're all here, I'm going to be fine._ Yang squeezes Ruby's hand a little harder as she watches Dr. Arcane situate the prosthetic around her stump.

No warning, no "brace yourself", the doctor brings the two ends together with a resolute shove.

Yang jerks, more so from surprise and releasing a bit of the pent up tension than anything else. She can't feel anything yet, save for a strange warmth where her stump and steel meet. Several seconds tick by and still nothing; her brain tries to move the fingers to no visible result. She looks at the doctor who's looking at her watch, the technician she brought with her is doing the same. Yang then looks at her teammates, them looking back at her with the same clueless, expecting faces.

"Well, doc, was it good for you?" Yang chuckles. "To be honest, I don't think I'd be up for a second da- _WOAH_ ," her entire body jerks to one side, then her hips buck out of the chair. At the same moment the new limb flexes sharply at the hinges in the wrist and elbow. Ruby's bracing one shoulder with her hand, her aura centralizing on the hand Yang is holding so her sister doesn't crush it. The others are in various stages of shocked worry.

It doesn't hurt, yet it doesn't _not_ hurt. It's a lot like the pins and needles of poor circulation coupled with a firm slap to bad sunburn. Long dead nerve endings are suddenly firing, sparks flashing across the dormant synapses in her brain that once controlled the limb. The feedback and shock of sensation ricochets throughout her body, every last muscle wrenching tight for several nearly agonizing seconds. Yang can feel a partial reaction from her aura, knowing the air in the room is heating up by marginal, but noticeable degrees. It buffers against the others in the room, creating a tangible sort of static.

When it passes the prosthetic goes limp into Dr. Arcane's hands, Yang flopping almost boneless back into the chair, her cheeks flushed bright red with a fine sheen of sweat across her face. She feels a pulsing clench just below her navel that she hasn't felt in months. "... _Damn_ ," she pants, "I take it all back, can I give you my number?" and then she starts laughing.

"Are you all right?" Tag asks with a noticeable disbelief. Her mind is still trying to catch up to the fact that there is now a limb where once was none, and it had moved despite not being flesh and blood.

"Good question, _are_ you experiencing any pain, Miss Xiaolong?"

"No, I'm okay," Yang assures the doctor with a nod, wiping the light sweat from her face with her other hand.

"Excellent. Could you try to move it?"

Yang nods again, her features morphing from amused to determined, her eyes fixing on her new hand. Her brows pull together, focused, the tip of her tongue catches between her teeth, peeking from between her lips. The big muscle of her bicep twitches against the metal cuff that acts as an anchor for the new limb to the rest of her arm, bulging in an attempt to make it move as if it were no different than the limb she lost. At first there's nothing, but then the index finger twitches. Yang's mind latches on to the sensation of it, like catching a loose thread in the dark and _pulls,_ the first finger curling completely to touch her palm -she can actually _feel_ the two surfaces make contact, courtesy of the textured rubber pad on the digit. Once, twice, on the third attempt the thumb jerks as well. Given a minute, she can make a fist, her smile widening as all the fingers close together.

"Now try the elbow joint,"

This comes much more easily, so much so that Yang nearly gives herself a face full of steel knuckles when she starts with the same amount of effort she put into moving her fingers. She laughs through the slight startle and just continues to grin and flex.

"Wonderful," Dr. Arcane nods, visibly pleased. "You're right on track. Now I'm afraid I have other patients waiting, but my technician is going to walk you through everything else you need to know as well as your rehab schedule. Though, as always, feel free to call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, doc. For everything." Yang offers up her hand -her flesh one as she doesn't feel confident performing a hand shake with the other.

"My pleasure, though I would appreciate it if you kept your promise to Miss Belladonna."

"My wha...?" At first Yang hasn't the slightest idea what she means, but then the confusion on her face is replaced with clarity and her cheeks turn pink. "O-oh yeah, sure, of course I will." And as Dr. Arcane leaves the room, Yang acknowledges the heated weight of amber eyes. "I was medicated, okay?" She blurts without looking at her partner.

"...But what did you promise me?"

Now Yang can feel every eye in the room centralizing on her, it's kind of awful to be honest. "...We can talk about it later."

"Why so shy, Yang?" Weiss seems to swoop in like a waiting vulture, her grin and eyes cutting across the space between her and Yang, "I mean, you've all but swallowed Blake's face in front of us, so what could a little conversation hurt? I for one would _love_ to hear about it,"

"Well you can take your love and sh-,"

" _Okay_ kids," Qrow intervenes, picking up on the steady reddening of his niece's irises, "there's still work to do. Come on, I'm sure this guy just wants to do his job and be on his way, so lets behave a little longer."

Yang and Weiss drop it, though not until they stick their tongues out at each other.

For the next hour or so they all watch and listen as the technician gives Yang a crash course in her new arm and its features -or at least he tries seeing as Yang can't seem to pay half the amount of attention to him as she does trying to make her first "finger guns" gesture in more than a year. It gets better when she finally succeeds, satisfied with running the pads of her artificial digits across her thigh, feeling the texture of her clothes. All the while her brain makes a sort of cliff's notes memory of the conversation, making sure to remember all the important stuff.

The ride back to the manor is tolerable at best as Yang insists on touching things - _all_ the things; the leather upholstery of the back seat, the bottom of her shoe -in the back of her mind she just can't _wait_ to give tying her shoes a try- she awkwardly massages a stretch of Ruby's cape between her thumb and index finger. Yang exhales against the glass of the car window, drawing a vague simile of her emblem in the condensation of her breath. Yeah, it's a messy drawing, hardly precise, but that wasn't important. The behavior carries over even after they reach their destination, Yang compulsively running her hand along every surface.

Blake hasn't seen Yang smile so much since she's been back -hell, none of them have, really- and it warms her heart. With her partner off the aura suppressors she can feel the heat of Yang's happiness roiling around her. An easy smile pulls the corners of her mouth as she watches, even laughing as Yang scoops up Weiss to all but crush her in a grateful embrace, doing the same with Ruby when her little sister starts to whimper like a neglected puppy.

Though it's a short lived pleasure.

"She's doing a lot better." Qrow stalls beside her, watching Yang like she is.

Blake swallows, her smile dimming. "Yeah. This is good."

"Sure is." he nods once. "...Look, I know you'd rather do this on your own time, but that's not a luxury I can give you."

"I know." her ears fall against her hair.

"I've still got a lot of stuff to tell you kids, stuff I think you need to know to better prepare for what's coming. I want you all on the same page and for whatever is going to happen between you to happen."

"I've told Weiss and Ruby already...and Yang knows about Adam,"

He all but pounces on the way she pauses. "But...?"

She swallows again, her smile flattening entirely. "...How do I even begin?"

"You could always start with sorry." Qrow inches his shoulders and lilts his head. "Seemed to soften the blow when I told Tai. Not by much, I'd imagine, but it was something. Really...all you can do is be honest, the rest will be up to Yang."

Blake feels her brow lower over her eyes, her arms crossing as she hugs herself. She takes a breath and continues to watch her partner, tries to take something away from the heat of her joyous aura, perhaps hoping it might bolster her resolve a little. It doesn't. She starts rehearsing in her head again, all the while trying to play herself off as cool and collected as always. For a while she thinks she's fooled them, but then she catches a lingering glance from Weiss, having completely forgotten that her fellow Maiden might be privy to certain nuances in her aura that would give away her anxiety. Thankfully it only takes a vague, assuring nod to keep Weiss from prying any further, but it only serves to put a little more pressure on her. She needed to act, even if it was just a small step.

It takes more courage than she thought she had, but Blake will quietly ask if she and Yang could talk in private after dinner. She expects Yang to agree, which she does, but she doesn't expect the seemingly knowing wink and how it turns her own cheeks red. Though later she'll be grateful for the distraction; wondering what could possibly be going through her partner's mind in regards to their impending meeting was enough to distract her from the anxious humming of her heart.

Though the reprieve feels much too short as the others get up from the table one by one, leaving their dishes for the staff to pick up. She flinches in her seat as Yang taps her shoulder with her palm -the flesh one- before giving a little apology and offering her a hand to take. They walk out of the dinning room together, no rush, ascending the stairs and steadily making their way back to Yang's room. Every step makes Blake that much more aware of what's coming, her fingers unconsciously flexing against Yang's. Without turning her head she tries to catch a glimpse of Yang's face, curious if she's even remotely suspicious. Doesn't look like it -she seems obliviously happy, though that does nothing to ease her fear.

She follows Yang through the door, turning her back to her partner not just to push it closed behind them, but to divide her hyper focus for just a moment. She swallows the newly formed thickness in her throat and gathers a breath, briefly allowing it to perch in her chest, almost wary of making any noise. _Just do it. Just let it all out. Do it like a band-aid._

Blake exhales and slowly turns. "Yang, I-," Hot blood rushes up into her face when she realizes just how _close_ her partner is. They're inches apart and Blake had been completely unaware of it.

Yang eases closer, closer, slowly on the chance Blake wants to cut away, just in case she crosses some unspoken boundary. She thinks Blake takes a step back, unsure until she hears the _thump_ of the door as the faunus braces against it. Being taller, Yang tucks her chin and tilts her head, still carefully approaching, soft lilac eyes fixated on amber irises. She doesn't sense rejection or the bristling resistance she expects, taking it as a form of consent. She wets her lips with a quick pass of her tongue before pressing them gently but insistently against Blake's.

The stifling heat in Blake's cheeks bursts apart to flush the rest of her body, her hands lifting reflexively from where they had been resting at her sides with fingers half grasping empty air while the shock rolls through her. Her hands find their place atop Yang's powerful shoulders, fingertips pressing into toned musculature, fussing between pulling her closer or pushing her away. Part of her mind is telling her to retreat - _this is not what you came here for!_ \- while another part is purring encouragement _-this is_ exactly _what you came here for_ \- and she is so thoroughly tempted to heed the softer notion. But...

"Y-Yang," she fights between crushing lips to say, "wait,"

"Just a minute," Yang replies quickly, her breath hot, the rims of her irises tinged red, "gimme just one minute."

Just one minute before everything falls apart. Blake actually begins counting in her head. _One...two...three...I-four-can-five-have-six-this. Seven-it's-eight-okay-nine..._

Blake reciprocates in earnest, fingers pressing a little harder before one hand smooths up the curve of Yang's neck and into her hair. It finds the elastic band holding it in a ponytail and pulls it out -not too roughly of course- and tosses it aside before pushing endless gold tresses between her fingers. Yang groans against her lips, her hips bucking with a punctuated jerk. It happens again as Blake's hand flexes, blunt claws scratching Yang's scalp. Blake can feel Yang's arms bracing on either side her, palms flat to the door.

_Thirteen...fourteen..._ _ **fuck**_ _teen-oh my god_...

A powerful thigh presses between Blake's legs, the door rattling against the enthusiastic impact of Yang's knee. A breathy mewl couples with Blake's shivers just before she pulls away so she can breathe. The look in Yang's eyes shoots a hot spike of desire through her, compelling the faunus to raise both hands and cup her partner's face to pull her in for another series of noisy kisses. Blake turns her head, catching Yang's bottom lip between her teeth. The brawler groans, pressing harder against her.

"I missed you," Yang growls. Her palm pries away from the surface of the door to flatten and smooth over Blake's bare midriff, then the fingers flex to scratch just once and with just enough force to draw another sound from her partner. Her hand sinks lower, diverting to one side to clutch the outer bend of Blake's hip, then lower still to hook the underside of her thigh and tug upward.

"You can use your other hand," Blake forces out, their foreheads touching though their lips have separated. "I don't mind."

"You trust me?"

"Always." the answer comes without a thought.

"Alright." she cuts a wicked grin and chuckles. "You asked,"

_Twenty-one...twenty-two...twenty-twenty-twenty..._

Firm steel digits conform almost too tightly to the curve of her other thigh and pull. Blake can't believe she follows through with the unspoken instruction, hooking her knees on her partner's hips and locking her ankles and arms behind her. Their hips are flush together, delicious pressure in all the right places.

Yang loves the way her heart is pounding, loves the static of skin-to-skin contact. She has been dying for this kind of touch for months -been dying to get it from _her_ for weeks- and though it still doesn't feel _normal_ , it feels a hell of a lot better than usual. It's inviting, it's soft, it's warm with just a hinting bite of fire. Good enough to keep pushing, to keep digging deeper to sate that gut wrenching need. Yang's starving, and it's taking every ounce of control she has not to devour her partner whole. She takes the chance of allowing her prosthesis to ease along Blake's spine, the rubber pads registering a phantom sensation of the silky texture of her rich ocher skin, up and up until she can cup the back of the faunus' head and press her lips closer -her other hand cups her perfect backside to support her. She can feel her entire body vibrate with the breathy groan of Blake's response, and Yang chases after the sound with her tongue in hopes of getting another. Blake loses count, though part of her brain has a death grip on the number forty -something concrete and tangible in this dreamlike maelstrom she feels stranded in.

The kisses slow, become fewer, and Yang eventually pulls away. A broad grin pulls her features and she offers a thready laugh. "Damn," she pants, breath still like the runoff from a furnace.

"W-what's wrong?" Blake pants, her feline ears folded back, her expression almost fretting.

"Nothing's wrong," another quick kiss to her partner's lips, another little laugh as Blake chases after her when she pulls back again. "Just...if we can get to this after a minute, just imagine what we could do with an hour?"

Oh, what an hour that would be.

"But," Yang pauses, eyes lowered, "that isn't what this is about, is it? Didn't mean to distract you, but," - _but I totally meant to distract you._

Blake tries to catch her breath, momentarily wordless. Everything is coming back to center and she can't stand the feeling of the heat between them dissipating.

Yang looks up again, meeting her gaze. "This is about the change in your eyes,"

Blake feels herself stiffen in Yang's arms, a reaction her partner discerns as a request to be released. Carefully Yang lowers her to her feet, staying close until she knows she's steady.

"Y-you noticed," she can't look at her, focusing on the floor instead.

"Of course I did." Yang inches one shoulder. "I've been off the big drugs for weeks now, and I'm not blind."

"So...no one told you?"

"I wouldn't let them. They tried, but I wanted to hear it from you. When you were ready."

"Thank you." she responds, feeling the words come too quickly.

Yang waits, waits, and when Blake remains silent, "Does it have to do with Adam? What you did to him?"

"No. Not directly." Blake shakes her head. Suddenly she feels cornered, it's a sensation she's always hated. "I," the words jerk back like a frightened animal, but she pushes, "I'm...a Maiden. Like Weiss and Tag."

She doesn't know what to think when it isn't surprise on Yang's face, but resignation. The little nod she makes drives her confusion home.

"I guessed. Like I said, it's in your eyes, though it's more noticeable with you than Weiss." Yang cocks her head, eyes thinning at a closer inspection. When she pulls back she grins meekly, "Red suits you."

_Oh my god, oh my god,_ Blake feels herself shrinking, _she doesn't know. She doesn't know what she's saying. Yang doesn't_ know _..._

Yang raises her hand to stroke her cheek with the smooth backs of her metal fingers, still willing to risk it for her own sake -she had to get used to it- uncertainty flickering across her features when Blake grabs it with a small static snap and holds it still. Sure, it's nice that she doesn't flinch away from it...

"What is it, Blake? There's something else,"

"Do...do you know how Maidens get their powers?"

"I've heard the story, yeah." she nods, some of her wild hair falling over her shoulders. "So what happened? You want to sit down for this?"

"No, no, it's okay I just," she bites her bottom lip, the pinching pain grounding her a little more, "I just need to say it." because she thinks if she gets distracted one more time, it's never going to come out. Blake takes a shaking breath, exhaling to try and compose herself, gripping Yang's hand a little tighter. _One thing at a time. Just one word after the other._

Yang waits patiently, visibly unsure. She can feel her partner has begun to shake and she doesn't know what to do to make it stop.

Blake wants to look her in the eye but can't, the guilt and fear keeping her chin tucked near her chest. "She...she tried to kill me...and she would have come after you and the others next."

Yang's brow pulls to the middle, more confusion. "How did she know about us? Was she another of Cinder's goons or what?"

"No," her response is a pitiful whimper. If Yang's hand was still made of flesh and blood, Blake feared her hold on it would have hurt. Something in her mind sparks, makes her loose her grip and push herself back against the door.

Yang almost looks hurt at the loss of contact. "Come on, Blake...please tell me."

_Say it. Say it._ _**Say it** _ _._

Another level exhale as she lifts her head, ears folded down as far as possible, almost invisible in her hair as her eyes settle on Yang. It's now or never. "It was Raven."

At first there is no visible reaction. Blake isn't entirely sure Yang even heard what she said, but doesn't dare attempt to repeat it. She studies Yang's face for several seconds, her heart clenching when she looks away.

"I didn't want to do it, I swear," now the panic settles in. "I didn't have a choice and neither did she. Please, Yang, _please_ believe me. I-" she freezes, silenced by the sudden smothering swell of Yang's aura around her. It pushes against her own, seeming huge and intimidating. "Yang," she squeaks.

"Why?" the question is hauntingly neutral, hushed. "Why would my own _mother_ want to kill me?"

For a moment Blake's thoughts fumble, wondering if the question is rhetorical or not. Then she flinches when her partner's eyes cut to her, the irises reddening again. "Sh-she was..." she doesn't know how else to say it "hexed by a Witch."

Yang takes an almost stumbling step back. Her jaw drops as if to say something, to let the unreadable expression on her face manifest more clearly through words, but they don't make it, aborted as little more than choking noises. All of her thoughts are starting to crash together, becoming a riot of sharp static, like glass in her ears. It gets steadily louder just as her eyes become a solid, vicious red, and her nostrils flare as her breaths quicken. Both of her hands twist into slow fists.

The heat in the room pitches and Blake acknowledges the fine sheen of sweat across the back of her neck. She swallows loud enough to hear. "Y-Yang," she tries. Blake shies as Yang approaches in one sharp motion, expecting a myriad of things other than what actually happened; Yang reaches passed her and jerks the doorknob, almost shoving her partner aside as she yanks the door open just wide enough to push through.

_Oh god, oh god, please don't_. Blake doesn't even know what she's praying for, or if anything is listening to begin with, but her mind is frantically chanting the appeal as she twists around and follows her partner into the hallway. "Yang," she tries again, finding a little courage to speak up.

"I need a minute." she grinds out in response, refusing to stop.

"Please let me explain,"

Then she snaps around, her hair tossing with the generated momentum. " _Give me a fucking minute, okay_?!"

Blake freezes in place, her ears snapping back as horrified shock jolts through her and saps all the color from her face. Her trembling lips pull into a thin line and one hand unconsciously rises to cover it up -she can't even begin to imagine why, every last thought and intention gutted from her mind.

A part of Yang knows what she's done, knows and _hates_ the way Blake is looking at her now; she's terrified and it's gnawing at the brawler's heart like a rabid dog, a _big_ one. That same part of her wishes she could take it all back, say she's sorry and hold onto Blake until all was forgiven. But that part of her isn't nearly as insistent or as loud as the other, as the savage something that surfaced whenever her emotions ever became just too much -that something born from months of feeling _nothing_.

When Yang can't stand to see the fear in her eyes anymore she whips back around to start down the corridor again. And Blake watches her, staring stupidly at the back of her partner's head until she disappears and takes all the warmth of her presence with her. Then the tears come.

 

 

Author's Note: Another twelve pages. Jeeze. And here I go rustling the Beehive (hah, pun!) Chances are good I won't be back on plot again until after chapter 25, but, eh, what can you do. Next chapter; Jaune has a habit of taking one step forward and two steps back, while the girls have their work cut out for them. Super props to Strayphoenix for all their help, you rock! Questions and comments are always welcome.

 


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

Jaune focuses on one of Billy's axes as it sticks end-up out of the ground., trying to tip it over. Seemingly simple, but he's been at this for two hours now without success.  As he sits in the grass in front of the house, Jaune pulls on that certain something in the pit of his stomach, what he has come to recognize as his semblance -which he still isn't quite certain what in all it does. So far all he or Billy can ascertain is that it can  _ push _ , maybe even repel objects, but they have yet to solidly confirm it. Thankfully his skill for fighting has noticeably improved over the last month, so he and Billy can focus more on this. It's just as taxing as swinging around and sword and bracing heavy blows with his shield, in some ways more so, but he almost prefers it.

Billy sits nearby, watching, waiting, mimicking his position. "You were able to do it yesterday." They shrug softly.

"Because you had me convinced you were going to split my face in half." he confesses neutrally, trying to maintain his attention on his task.

A little laugh. "True enough, but you need to learn to use it without the panic."

"I'm  _ trying _ ." though he's quietly grateful they had come to that conclusion, because he's had it up to  _ here _ with getting tossed around to trigger his semblance.

"Did they not cover this in your schooling?"

"Didn't get to that part." he shrugs, focus broken by bubble of frustration.

"And your aunt? Wasn't she your teacher?"

"Aunt Glynda is more like you," he explains, wholly unaware that Glynda is now in her kitchen and gaping at her favorite coffee cup, wondering how the handle had suddenly snapped off in her hand. "Her classes focused on actual combat. I'm sure we  _ would've _ gotten into more aura related stuff if we had the chance."

They nod with a hum, connecting thoughts and theories like dots in their mind. "And Pyrrha? Didn't she try to help you?"

"Yeah. We just...we didn't get very far either."

"I see." another nod. "Continue, sorry to disturb you."

He offers up a murmur of thanks before tucking his chin and taking a deep breath, trying to get his head back in the right place. Jaune forces his thoughts to center, to still, and tries reaching for his semblance again. He finds the gilded thread of it more easily this time, taking as firm a hold of it as he can. Slowly, steadily he draws it in, like the line on a fishing rod, until he feels the warm energy perched beneath his ribs. Another breath, and he pushes through the exhale. Jaune watches as the stone tomahawk takes on a faint golden glow and shifts in the dirt, though it doesn't fall. He tries again, brow knitting tightly as he pushes harder. The energy in him flexes and then dissipates as the weapon topples on its side with a rustle of dry grass. Jaune relaxes, pleased surprise on his face.

"Very good." Billy actually smiles. Then they stand up and put the ax back on its end before resuming their seat. "Now do it gain."

 

_(II)_

Ruby loves the warm fuzziness between asleep and awake, so plush and comfortable. She's still groggy enough to not be aware of all the grown-up stuff that's going to follow her around all day, but not so far down that she can't enjoy the softness of the bed linens and pillows and the warm body that she unconsciously and steadily scoots towards. Eyes still closed she curls around it, one arm draping as she nuzzles her face into what feels like ribs. There's silk under her palm and cheek, likely a nightgown, and she feels her arm rise and fall with the cadence of easy breathing. She smiles, willing to wake up just a little more as fingers twine in her hair, almost petting her.

"Did I wake you?"

Ruby shakes her head, inching that much closer, gripping Weiss around the middle. "Why are you up already?" she grumbles a little, her question hushed against Weiss' side.

"It's seven."

" _ Ew _ ," as far as Ruby is concerned, any hour before  _ breakfast _ didn't exist. "I thought you said you didn't have to go into the office today,"

"I don't. But I still have some work to do."

"Like what?"

"You know...stuff."

"Hmm. Where's Blake?"

"Bathroom."

Finally Ruby resigns to opening her eyes, one silver iris revealed and looking up into her Maiden's face. The heiress is studying her scroll, but her gaze pulls away to meet Ruby's, smiling a little and making Ruby do the same. Ruby shifts against her, managing into a half sitting position without separating from her, still tucked beneath one arm with one of her own across Weiss' waist. Weiss notices the stubborn shock of dark hair standing almost straight up on Ruby's head and fixes it with a couple passes of her palm.

Ruby lets her head rest on Weiss' shoulder. "So what are you doing?"

"Preparations for Solstice mostly. I'm considering commissioning some gear for us too."

"Ooh, like what?" Ruby almost puts her head between Weiss and the screen, the heiress having to push her back a little.

"Well," Weiss taps the screen with her thumb, a hint of hesitation, "I've been looking at some armor...I'd like for you to think about perhaps wearing some from now on."

"But I won't be as mobile if I'm weighted down with extra stuff."

"I know, that's why it's so minimal, see?" she tilts the screen, "and it's light weight. It might not stand up to a direct hit from something  _ large _ ," her thoughts drift briefly back to airship crash, "but..." then her words fumble, a little redness forming in the natural pallor of her face, "I just want to keep you as safe as possible."

"Aw," Ruby coos, "that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Weiss offers a sideways glance. "You said the same thing when I told you there were fresh cookies in the kitchen."

"Yeah...but that was yesterday."

Weiss rolls her eyes but lets herself smile as well. "In any case...I wish you would at least  _ consider _ it."

Ruby turns her head, partly surprised her partner doesn't meet her gaze. "Okay," she concedes. "If it'll make you feel better."

"Thank you." Weiss sounds genuinely relieved. "I was thinking all of us could sit down and talk about it."

"You sure that's such a good idea?  _ All of us _ running around covered in metal going up against a...Grimm- _ thing _ that can use polarity?"

"I-," Weiss stops herself, doubling back. "...A fair point. Still, I'm sure there are other options - _ I _ would certainly feel better if you went into battle with more than a skirt and a cape."

"You mean like you? And you do it with _ out _ the cape,"

Weiss' eyes thin as she glowers up at Ruby.

"Hey, you said you loved me, that means you don't get to give me dirty looks anymore." Ruby tries not smile  _ too _ broadly and fails when Weiss' expression intensifies. 

Their attention on one another breaks up and shifts away when there's the distinct sound of muffled flushing and the gentle creak of working door hinges from across the room. Both of them watch as Blake shuffles out of the adjacent bathroom, scratching at her scalp, eyes only half open and focused dimly on the floor. Without a word she crawls back into bed, Ruby lifting her arm once she's close enough in anticipation of what the faunus wants. She tucks tightly against her team leader, ears folded down, limbs snug to her body like she means to hide -or better yet, disappear.

Blake came into Weiss' room last night claiming she couldn't sleep, and while her tone had been level, seemingly untroubled, both Ruby and Weiss knew right away that she wasn't telling the whole truth. Of course she couldn't sleep, but it was obvious at a glance that the puffiness in her felid eyes wasn't caused by an inability to keep them closed. They didn't pry, didn't try to force the story out, instead they just invited her in and they snuggled on the bed together -Blake in the middle, a proper filling to a proper friend sandwich- with the television on until she did finally fall asleep. All the while Weiss could sense an uncustomary, but not unfamiliar heat radiating throughout the manor.

The Winter Maiden knew it was Yang's aura pulsing like the makings of an uncontrollable blaze just looking for the right accelerant to set it off, and immediately sensed that it and Blake's current mood were directly linked. Yet, as much as she wanted to know what was going on between her teammates, she already knew that Blake was in no state to talk. Besides, she already had an idea.

_ The other shoe must have dropped, as they say. God, I hope Yang will be all right... _

More truthfully, Yang  _ and _ Blake. They had gone through  _ so much _ to be a team again, the idea that it could all fall apart so quickly makes Weiss' gut wrench.

"She just needs time." Ruby sighs softly, as if she had read Weiss' thoughts. Maybe she did. She tugs up the blankets, covering Blake to the shoulders, a little relieved when she seems to relax a bit. "I mean...yeah, we've  _ all _ had to deal with some heavy stuff this past year...but Yang...well,"

"I know." Weiss nods. "Just wish there was something I could do."

"That's because you like micromanaging things, control freak." Ruby smirks. "I bet you even color code your underwear."

"I do  _ not _ ," the heiress counters.

Blake shifts against Ruby's side, turning her head to neutrally say "Kind of hard to color code them when they're all white."

Weiss sputters, so red she's nearly glowing. Ruby partly cringes at the blaring white noise filling her head. "How do you know that?!"

A little, cat like smirk. "I didn't. But now I do."

Ruby feels Weiss' aura bristle sharply against hers and sees the heiress' face redden in correlation with a little growl. She puts herself between the two - _ it's all in fun _ , her mind whispers as Ruby nudges Weiss' forehead with her own.  _ Let her have this, at least she's talking now. _

_ Alright. _ Comes a cold reply, a sensation that warms with a little kiss.

Blake can almost sense their attention drift away from her, her teammates renewing their focus on the scroll and lowering their voices as they start a new conversation. That's all well and good. She isn't really ready to be the center of anything right now. All that would serve to do is make her feel cornered again, caught between the pressure of attention and that yawning distance she still feels between her and her other teammate.

All night her brain had been buzzing with noise, a host of anxious words manically repeating varying degrees of  _ Yang _ and  _ I'm sorry _ . What sleep she did get had been shallow and fitful, her dreams full of fire and the screaming of crows, streaks of crimson across the blackness of her slumbering mind. Once she had reached out with her aura, unconscious to the attempt, only to snap it back once it brushed against Yang's, the heat of it bordering on caustic and forcing Blake to recoil. She had felt something like fear again and reacted like a dog that had just taken a rolled newspaper to the nose.

_ She hates me. What am I going to do? I can't just leave...I promised I wouldn't. They need me, but... _

Her body slowly tenses, and Blake buries her face in Ruby's side to hide the hurt.

 

_(III)_

He's improving, they would readily admit it -over the last month Jaune had made noticeable and surprising strides in his training, but there is still something crucial missing.

His push-off is great, Jaune can close distances in an instant like a competent hunter, and he finally has a method to comfortably switch from leading with his sword to his shield and back again in an applicable manner. His swings are much more precise, actually having the intent to cut instead of the awkward, poorly focused bashing it appeared to have been before. His shoulder now holds fast under heavy blows to his shield, he's even beginning to comprehend using it as a second weapon -like an edged bludgeon. Jaune's feet no longer plant themselves flat on the ground, something Billy has been relentlessly harassing him to change, and now keeps his weight shifting front to back and manages it with balls of his feet instead of his heels. Just these seemingly minor adjustments allowed him to advance by comparative leaps and bounds, Billy hasn't been able to put him on his back for days.

But there is still something he's lacking, something that could make all of his improvement worthless.

In the dying light of the evening, the air cooling by degrees, the two of them stand toe-to-toe, meaning to finish up their work for the day. Sweat rolls down their faces, their heated and rhythmic exhales visible in the cool air as steam. Billy waits, axes up, watching Jaune and ready to take what he was meaning to give. Jaune's eyes are fixed on them, eyes centering on their waistline so his peripherals would account for any movement they made, any at all.

Jaune pushed hard with his back leg, keeping his shield close to his chest as he turns at the waist, the blade of Crocea Mors thrusting forward with enough force to make the air whistle. Billy leans aside, one big foot shifting as they move one ax into position to catch the blade with flickering sparks as opposed to the meat of their bicep. Jaune follows through, swinging his shield arm and making the faunus duck before bringing the sword down from overhead. Billy twists away, still facing him as they back up. The human keeps pressing, quick bursts of forward motion that keep the distance between them anxiously narrow. More sparks fly as sword and ax and shield collide and depart with the sharp scrapings of steel and stone. Surprise flickers across Billy's face at his persistence, how they can't seem to get a foot in the door against him. He just keeps pushing, keeps their quarters close, offering only inches of room for them to think.

They push back with a hard thrust of their knee, a jolt of pain shooting through it when they hit his shield. Jaune pushes back, another hard advance, and shoves them off balance. Billy stumbles, falls, but rolls back onto their feet to continue. They swing one ax downward, not with the intent to strike him, but to hook the edge of his shield and pull it down, mimicking the same motion with their other weapon. As they expect Jaune catches it with the flat of his blade, circling his arm until the two weapons separate and free him up to attack again. This time Billy forces him away with a shove of their foot against his shield, but Jaune is back on them in an instant.

_ That's right, keep coming. Don't give me the chance to find an advantage. _ A part of Billy is so proud at his progress, but a bigger part is ready for that short-coming to rear its head. They can almost sense it. They push against him a little harder, putting more of their massive weight behind their swings and expecting him to quail. Jaune raises his shield to catch a flurry of stone, turning Crocea Mors over in his hand and pressing close enough to put the pommel in their gut.  _ That _ actually took them by genuine surprise.

He follows through again -one more blow to the stomach, his body turns and he shoves his shoulder into the ribs with enough momentum to lift them off the ground, then his body turns again, his leg swinging to catch them behind the knees. Billy hits the ground hard, partly disoriented but not so much that they don't attempt to stand to again. Jaune puts the sole of his shoe to their sternum and shoves with a surprisingly controlled pulse of aura behind it, putting Billy soundly on their back.

_ Here's your chance boy, prove me wrong. _

They wait, wait, watching as Jaune merely takes a step back, panting as his hands drift to his sides, guard lowered. "How was that?"

They wanted to be proud - _ Nature's grace _ did they want to be proud of him. He had come so far, but until he learned  _ this... _

With an ax still in hand they reach out and hook his ankle, tearing him to the ground as they roll to their hands and knees and get to their feet. With a chesty grumble they move to stand over him, shoulders hunched making them look impossibly bigger, and their brow is set so tight it must hurt.

"The fight isn't over just because you knock them down." they grunt.

Jaune sputters, pales, he doesn't dare move. "B-but...we're just..."

"You  _ need. To follow.  _ **_Through_ ** _. _ " Their jaw is tight, their tone is steadily sharpening, feeling like they've said this a million times already with each repetition having gone unheard.

For a moment the human just stares, shaking his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"All this has gone far beyond what you  _ want _ , boy," they snap. "The time for that is  _ over _ , and you need to get that through your head."

Jaune frowns. "Look, I didn't choose to become a huntsman to  _ kill _ people,"

"Your enemies have shown their hands! This Cinder clearly doesn't care -that  _ thing  _ out there," one big hand juts towards the treeline, "doesn't care why you became a hunter, it intends to  _ kill you _ just the same!  _ Wake. Up. _ "

"Billy," he tries to at least sit up, shame rippling through him that scatters when their foot shoves him flat again.

"We have been at this for a _month_ , what do I have to do to convince you?" the faunus almost shouts, seeming genuinely lost. "What will make you see?"

Jaune has no answer, he just looks back at them, anxious and uncertain.

"Do you  _ want _ to leave your packmates without a leader? Would you abandon them?"

Jaune's clarity seems to come back coupled with a hint of indignation. "No."

"Would you put them at risk because you allowed your opponent to live?"

"Billy, that's not fa-"

" **_Death_ ** _ isn't fair _ ! Death is a heartless thief and  _ nothing _ will change that -all it can do is  _ take _ ! And if you're willing to stand by and  _ allow _ it, tell me now so I can be on my way! I'll not waste any more of my time if you can't be bothered to protect you own life, never mind the lives of others!"

Billy yanks their foot away and turns their back on him, marching off towards the house. Jaune takes a moment to process what happened, to rationalize the bit of shock perched in his chest before scrambling to his feet.

"Let's go again," he shouts after them.

"Not until you get your head out of your backside!" they bite back from over their shoulder. Just as they reach the top of the short flight of stairs, reaching for the door, it seems to swing open on its own, the massive faunus stopping just short of driving through the eldest daughter that put herself in the doorway.

Jessica looks up at them, mouth open with one hand cupped at the side as if to amplify her voice for some long-distance call. She sputters and closes her mouth as she clears her throat. "S-supper's on the table, momma wants us all to wash up."

"Ah," the frustration that had been there but a moment ago seemed to disappear, "thank you."

"...You done whipping my brother's ass for the day?"

Then Billy scowls. "That's up to him. Excuse me."

Jessica steps aside, giving Billy a wide berth, ears tilted at a wary angle as her eyes move from Billy to Jaune. When she comprehends his clueless...self, her brows reach for her hairline. "What did you  _ do _ ?"

Jaune's gaze breaks away as he collapses his shield and sheathes his sword, head and shoulders hanging as he drags himself to the door. He doesn't have an answer when he gets there, leaving his sister to just watch him disappear inside. Her frame shifts with a heavy sigh and a shake of her head. Boys.

 

_(IV)_

Yang's head is full of hot ashes and glowing embers, has been for nearly three days -was it three? Everything has become a buzzing, molten blur of rampant thoughts and simmering anger, she's not even entirely certain which way is up at the moment. A little unsettling considering she took the last of her pain meds day before yesterday.

Her rehab sessions at the hospital provide a temporary distraction, her mind too busy with performing the most basic daily tasks in tedious repetition in order to acclimate to her prosthetic, but, again, it's only temporary. By the time she returns to the manor and twists off the mechanical limb to let her aching shoulder rest, she's livid again.

She had hoped taking the time to cool down, to process this new mess would help. She thought just being isolated and quiet would give her the chance to sort it all out and swallow it down, but no such luck. Somehow it only stoked the flames higher until it kept her awake at night -nightmare, after nightmare, after nightmare- and made her whole body pulse with...something awful, something that makes her stay tucked away from everyone else lest she see that same look of fear on them that she had seen on Blake that liked to gut her. The scant few of the others she has seen over the last couple days haven't asked her what's wrong -at this point she assumes they know. Ruby tries to act like nothing is out of place, Weiss does too although she fails at it somewhat. Yang knows the heiress instinctively keeps more than an arm's length away from her at any given time. Being aware of that is both understandable and painful. She doesn't want her friends to be afraid of her, but...

Gods above, she doesn't even know  _ for certain _ what she's so mad about, only that there's a  _ list _ . There is no top, no bottom, no possibly discernible method of least and greatest, it's just a mother. Fucking.  _ List _ . And it's  _ full _ .

As Yang steps out of the bathroom in a plain tank top and sweats, a damp towel around her neck and some of her skin still red from piping hot spray, her stomach growls again. She scowls, pushing the towel through her wild hair one last time with a grumble before letting it drape on the foot of the bed and heading for the door. She pauses only once, considering and declining to put her prosthetic on -maybe she'd take a break from lugging it around today. She hesitates in the doorway, looking this way and that along the hall to see if anyone was around. Quiet and alone, Yang starts down the corridor, feeling an anxious tightness to her frame -like stepping into a minefield, except the mines look like her friends and family and  _ she's _ the one everyone's worried about setting off.

Luckily she doesn't encounter anyone as she descends the stairs and makes an undistracted path for the kitchen. The dining room is thankfully vacant as well, it being the lull between lunch and supper, allowing her to pass through the chamber like a hot wave. There are a couple members of the staff in the kitchen, Klein included, shuffling about with freshly cleaned dishes and putting away groceries. Tentatively, perhaps sensing the swelling press of her presence, Klein asks if he can get her anything. With a little laugh she nods, asking if he could sneak her a cold beer - _ I won't tell if you won't tell _ . She's a little surprised when he nods with a smirk, his irises bright red after an exaggerated blink.

Everything in the kitchen is either stainless steel or white subway tile, making the place seem so cold and uninviting, much like the rest of the house. A long island sits in the middle of the room, the space between it and the other stretches of counter tops just wide enough for two people to stand abreast to each other. A row of bar stools lines its far side, Yang settling atop one of them to wait for her drink. She doesn't have to wait long, tipping her chin in gratitude before popping the tab. It's a cold bite all the way down, something to squelch the burning in her gut. She's never been a fan of beer, but for some reason it sounded good today. Yang shakes her head, smirking in spite of herself; still tastes like piss. But at least she can fell full _and_ buzzed.

Once the remainder of the staff leaves she has a few moments to herself, pretending to enjoy her drink in silence while unconsciously staring a hole into the wall across from her. A dull thump echoes through the room as the door swings open, Yang reflexively taking an almost too big gulp from the can in hopes of having most of it gone in case it happens to be someone she doesn't want to catch her.

"Oh, Yang, good to see you," Tag visibly brightens up, smiling with a happy toss of her tail behind her. "Feeling any better?"

"Um, yeah," she's a little surprised by the question, trying not to choke on the big bubble trying to push up from her stomach. Finally she burps, her fist against her mouth. "I'm fine just...you know."

"Just not feeling it, I guess? I personally don't understand one's need to be alone," Tag crosses the room, moving to the far side of the island to lean against it across from her, "but I appreciate that some have it. Is everything all right?" the faunus cocks her head, sympathetic and curious.

Yang doesn't respond right away, taking a moment to turn the can in place and think.

"What is that? Doesn't smell too good,"

"Just beer."

One charcoal brow lifts, "Can I try it?"

Yang just pushes the aluminum cylinder towards her, dipping her chin in consent. Her attention is divided between Tag and the wall, partly unaware how the older woman studies the can and sniffs it again, her nose wrinkling before she elects to take a sip. Then she's fully focused as obvious disgust manifests throughout Tag's whole body, her face scrunching, arms tensing against her chest, and her tail kinking in several places. Yang almost laughs when she carefully puts the can down before swallowing hard, showing the last of her displeasure with the drink with an echoing "Blech!"

"Yeah, even though this is the high-dollar stuff, it sucks." Yang chuckles, nodding as she takes the drink back and finishes it.

"Why on earth are you drinking that? Nature's  _ grace _ ," Tag sputters, doing everything she can not to spit out what's left on her tongue.

"What, didn't you have booze in the jungle?"

"Of course we did, but it tasted a sight better! You'd have to be drunk already just to stomach  _ that _ !" Tag just shakes her head and shifts away from the island, still griping a little as she goes in search of something more pleasant to drink. It takes her a few minutes to find the glasses, having only been in the kitchen but a handful of times. She doesn't know what half of the stuff in the refrigerator is, unable to read the labels, but is more than content with the water from the tap.

"Mind if I sit with you?" Tag asks softly from where she stands by the sink.

Yang lilts her head. "It's a free kingdom."

"What?"

"Just a saying. Sit where you want."

Not too quickly the faunus rounds the island, a bit of walk, and comes to sit on the stool to Yang's left. For a spell they just sit quietly, Tag drumming her fingers on her glass and her tail drifting back and forth behind her. Yang is staring at the wall again, thoughts pulling her away, though a part of her mind is contemplating another beer -if not that then maybe the fuss of mixing her own drink, a strawberry sunrise sounds  _ so good _ right now. Her attention comes prickling back at the feel of something brushing unexpectedly against the small of her back. Her head jerks to the side, looking to see Tag's tail is a little too close.

"Oh, sorry." the faunus quickly pulls it back, half wrapping it around her own waist. "Has a mind of its own sometimes."

"It's fine." Yang replies, reflexive, half tensed. Tension that steadily eases through another stretch of quiet.

"Would you...do you want to talk about it?" Tag asks, seemingly out of nowhere but quite the opposite. She knows Yang has been fuming these last few days, has felt her aura from anywhere in the house like one feels the heat radiating from a bonfire even as they sit in the shadows. She knows what hurt feels like too, and Yang - _ and _ Blake for that matter- are hurting. It doesn't take too much for her to put two-and-two together.

"There's nothing to talk about." Yang says flatly. "Won't change anything."

"You sure? Because it doesn't seem like staying holed up in your room is changing anything either," and she internally flinches when Yang's eyes cut to her, narrowed and somewhat severe. The faunus withdraws a little, wary but trying not to let it show. "...I'm worried about you is all, honest."

"Don't be." Yang shrugs. "I can still fight."

Tag makes a face, confused. "That's not why I'm worried. You haven't been yourself...at least, not the you that  _ I know. _ If...if there's something I can do to help bring her back, I'd like to try. I mean," she pauses, swallowing, feeling maybe she's touching too close to some unspoken boundary, "I'm not just here to help Weiss, I can be here for all of you."

Yang lets the words sit in her mind, steeping, maybe unconsciously weighing how true they sound. It's not a phrase she's too accustomed to, certainly not recently when she felt like she needed to hear it the most. Even if that weren't the case, it wasn't like she would've believed it.  _ I'm here for you _ is the biggest lie in Yang's life, second only to  _ this won't hurt a bit. _

"Did you and Blake argue?"

Yang laughs a little, mostly to herself though it's audible. "Nah. That might actually make this mess easier."

"What mess?"

Yang fumbles with the words in her head, rimming the edge of the can with her index finger in an attempt to put them in the right order. "Just...family stuff. We don't...we kind of have this thing where we don't tell each other stuff."

"And for good reason,"

Both women turn their heads in unison, towards the gravelly grumble that both cuts and mounts the uneasy heaviness in the room. Qrow crosses the floor with his usual, functional-alcoholic lean. Both of them watch him, Yang's brow low over her eyes, her aura flaring a little. Tag senses the shift, bristling and giving Qrow a wary look.

"I'd love to hear these supposed reasons," Yang exhales. "Although it would've been a nice courtesy to get them a lot sooner."

"What Raven really was had to be kept a secret -a  _ very close _ secret, just like how Weiss, Tag, and even  _ Blake _ have to be kept secret."

"But why from me?"

"We couldn't take any risks."

"Risk of what? Who the hell was I going to tell?"

"The less you knew, the better. Even Tai didn't know." it's almost unsettling how nonchalant Qrow is offering up this information. Like it's nothing. "It wasn't even the risk of you two ratting her out; can you imagine what would have happened if word spread that a Maiden had a family? Children?"

"You think I haven't considered that already?" Yang glares at him from across the island. "I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were." he shakes his head, leaning against the island, propped on his elbows with his forearms folded.

She scowls hard, unable to look at him for a moment as her fingers tighten around the aluminum can, the thin metal clicking as small depressions form beneath the digits. "She was my mother. I had a right to know."

"Sorry, kid, but you didn't." he counters flatly. "All that was just too big for you then."

"And raising Ruby  _ wasn't _ ?" Yang bites back. "Because that's basically how it was. When you weren't around to help dad, all she had was  _ me _ . And then  _ you _ came around less and less,"

Tag swallows the thickness in her throat, sensing the pitching static in the room. Part of her feels like she should leave, but the other part simply can't make herself move.

"Yang," he exhales, "listen, Blake-"

"I don't want to talk about Blake right now!" The can hits the counter top with a punctuated  _ CLACK _ . "I'm not angry at Blake, I'm angry at  _ you _ . For as long as I can remember, all I've ever wanted to know was  _ why _ ; all I ever asked is  _ why _ Raven left, and even after she's  _ dead _ you still can't be bothered to come clean to me!  _ You  _ didn't even tell me she was dead, I had to hear it from my  _ friend _ . What the hell do I have to do?!"

Qrow shrugs quietly. His gaze is low, unable to look his niece in the eye now. "Raven was trying to protect you."

"From  _ what _ ? A  _ Witch _ ?" And each word snaps passed her teeth like the cracking of a whip.

"Actually, yes. A Witch named Salem who was once our ally. Turns out that isn't so much the case, which is what drove Raven away from home. Summer too."

Yang recoils, expression an unreadable fusion of several negative things.

"The lot of us were hunting Grimm the likes of which most folks have never seen, and we needed every advantage we could get our hands on. A Witch's hex works just like a Maiden's mark, and it'll dissipate when she dies. Raven took Salem's hex to increase her powers -it's a two way street, now that I think of it. The hex allowed them to sort of tap into each other, it's complex. Too complex for me.

"Point is, we all saw Salem dragged into the void along with one of the nastiest Grimm this side of Sanus. We all thought she was dead. Days, weeks...months later, Raven still carried her mark and we didn't know what to do. When you were old enough not to need her so much, she left because she was feeling...things she knew she shouldn't be feeling." he pauses, maybe sorting his memories back into their rightful rank and file  _ -Qrow, something's wrong with me...she's my baby...but why do I want to...- _ maybe trying to maintain his focus under the oppressive heat of Yang's steadily intensifying aura.

"Summer was Raven's Guardian, and though Raven let her go before she left, Summer couldn't just...you know. She loved Raven too much, so she tried to find her, to find a way to remove the hex. That's how she died."  _ And not a day goes by that I don't hate myself for not trying harder to make her stay.  _ And he still can't tell what's going through Yang's mind, if anything.

Tag remains stock still, fixed, like watching a train wreck -and she has only the faintest idea of what a train is. She can feel Yang's aura roiling, a noticeable sweat breaking out across her neck and face. She tries to catch Qrow's attention, unsure if he can sense it too since he seems to pay it  _ zero _ mind. He won't look at her in spite of the face she's making at him, lips pressed into a thin line with severe eyes in an attempt to project her thoughts as loudly as possible without having to speak.  _ Back away, back away. _

Yang takes a deep breath, in and out through flared nostrils. Her heart is pounding hard enough for her to hear. The can crumples under her vice-like grip, forcibly deformed as her knuckles turn white. Her brow furrows, her eyes shut. When she opens them she's staring down into the diffused and vague reflection in the brushed stainless steel of the island, two obviously red spots staring back at her. Now she knows.  _ Finally _ she knows why. But...everything is...the  _ same _ ? Nothing has changed? Shouldn't she feel...something? Isn't closure supposed to feel good? Why does she still feel so...

Because it didn't change anything. All these years, especially as she got older, Yang kept telling herself that it wouldn't. She told herself it would just help her understand, maybe give her a bit of comfort, but it wouldn't undo the childhood she didn't get to have. It wouldn't erase her six-year-old self having to figure out cooking and laundry so her and Ruby could eat and have clean clothes to wear, or make up for Taiyang's emotional disappearing acts. It didn't still the blur of countless nights that Ruby cried herself to sleep over Summer, didn't shush the whimpering echoes asking when mommy's coming home. It wouldn't bring back all the people she felt had walked out of her life, some when she needed them most.

A little part of her mind, something tucked away in the back is starting to panic.  _ Now what? oh god, now what? It isn't better, this isn't getting better, what now? I don't have an answer, I'm just angry. This is  _ **_supposed_ ** _ to get  _ **_better_ ** ...

The bar stool under her screeches as she pushes it back, making room enough to stand up. She knows her hand is stuck in a fist, the crushed can still trapped in her grip, but she starts walking anyway. That same panicked notion is telling her to get back to her hole, to get away from everything.

"It's not a good time to start hiding again, kid. We need you to start standing on your own feet now."

She pauses, completely unaware and uncaring of the scathing look her uncle is getting from the faunus now behind her. A quick, hot breath passes through her nostrils again. "Fuck off."

"Or what? You'll throw another tantrum?"

In the matter of three seconds, just as many things happen. Qrow straightens, unable to rationalize the sharp pitch of aura that rolls over him like a truck. Tag leaps from her stool across the counter, tearing the huntsman with her to the floor as she feels the same energy surge as he did. Then the entire manor shakes.

 

 

Author's Note: Well...that was a thing, wasn't it? Some parts of this feel a little awkward, but I honestly can't imagine any of this any other way. Next chapter, Yang's anger management becomes a priority, and maybe Jaune will finally figure out the proper size and shape of the boot he needs put to his backside in order to get his Semblance groove on. Questions and comments are always welcome, and shout out to Draconic_Noble, Canterous, and Strayphoenix. You guys rock!

 


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

Blake and Ruby had been hanging out in the den, just enjoying each other's company when the room rumbled around them, and together they jumped over the back of the sofa and broke out into the hallway at a healthy sprint. Somehow Blake knows. She doesn't know how, but she knows why the seemingly stalwart home of the Schnees trembles from the foundation up, the countless windows rattling in their frames in congress with a wild burst of heat -a heat she only marginally feels through the cold and vicious dread that swamps her. The emotion paints itself in lines across her face, her brow creased in worry and ears folded back. Ruby catches her attention as the younger huntress comes to her side, offering her a hand that Blake takes tightly. Ruby pulls them both with her semblance, osiria scattering on the whipping air in the wake of a scarlet and sable spiral.

Coming out the other end of the corridor and rounding the staircase the two young huntresses are dizzied by the sweltering heat that washes over them and the acrid stink of smoke. There is no obvious evidence of the source here, but their attention is jointly snatched up by a riotous impact that rattles through the entryway to the dinning room. Tendrils of smoke are coiling upward from the opening, drifting towards the ceiling, and it's steadily thickening from steely gray to almost pitch black. Another punctuated crash has them both breaking into a fresh and frantic sprint. All the while Blake can feel something huge and sharp grinding against her aura, making even her magic bristle as the pressure tries to penetrate her like barbed static.

Ruby gets there first, several strides ahead, only to be knocked away by a body flying through the doorway. Her limbs wrap instinctively as she braces for the fall that comes too quickly and too hard, both her and Qrow rolling across the polished marble floor almost to the middle of the huge room. The sensation of the world swimming is quick to pass, Ruby pushing it from her head as she gets to her hands and knees, leaning over her uncle. Blood is pouring down his face, smearing across his teeth as his mouth hangs open, slackened with unconsciousness. She shakes him by the shoulders only to get a half-hearted roll of his head and fluttering eyelids.

"Ruby! Ruby, _move_!" Blake cries.

She doesn't think, just reacts, moving before she even knows why. Arms secure around Qrow, Ruby pulls him along with her semblance, unable to watch as a wall of ice materializes where she had once been and the rose petals of her wake wither and blacken. Another commotion echoes through the room, the frozen barrier that Blake had thrown up out of pure reflex crushed into shards and bursting clouds of steam by something hot and bright moving with break-neck force.

Blake is frozen in place, feet flat on the floor, features stretched and pale in disbelief. Her eyes move frantically from Ruby to...to _Yang_ -somehow her mind can't wrap around her partner's presence, and neither can her aura. The massive room is choked with stifling heat that pushes, almost suffocating, sweat prickling the faunus' skin. The stark whiteness of the floors and walls is bathed in a flickering congress of red and orange and gold, and Blake's jaw works helplessly -wordlessly- as she stares at the source.

Yang looks impossibly bigger, though there is no way of knowing if she actually is. It could just be a trick of her surging, turbulent aura and its manifestations across her straining body; every last muscle in her already powerful frame is tensing, pulled tight, the fibrous flesh standing out in stern relief beneath skin that had once been so inviting and warmly tanned. Now she appears to have the worst sunburn ever from head to toe, her hide a bright red. Too hot to even sweat. The chunks of the frozen barrier melt around her, turned to steam at her feet by the incredible heat rolling off of her. The marble beneath her feet has turned black. _Fire_ . There is actual _fire_ lapping in violent tongues from her hand and up her arm and from her ankles. Her hunching torso expands and contracts with each deep, manic breath, the air in her lungs emerging as steam. Bright red embers hover around her, scattering en mass with every shift of her golden hair. And her eyes, somehow the colors have switched -the whites having gone a dark red, the irises burning flawlessly white.

Yang lurches into hurried steps towards her uncle and sister. Blake still can't find it in herself to move.

"Yang? Yang, what's wrong? Talk to me!" Ruby pales, pulling Qrow a little closer. " _Please_!"

As Yang just continues steady and heavy, scorching steps in advance, Tag comes half stumbling into the chamber, face streaked black and choking on the smoke. Steadying herself, the older faunus' eyes flash bright green as she moves her hands. A bold sapphire glow forms between her palms, writhing as its shape collapses and ripples. It swells, surging, and Tag twists her entire body to hurl a roaring torrent of water across the room to crash into Yang from behind. The brawler barely flinches, even as steam pops up around her, but it's enough to make her pause.

Ruby takes the opportunity to move again, lifting off with a blast of aura and osiria over her sister's head. Her brain doesn't register the sudden jerk and the wild helplessness of being thrown off course, doesn't alert her to her forcibly altered trajectory to slam headlong into the ceiling. It certainly isn't aware of her falling, she's blacked out from the impact -thankfully her aura saved her from a broken neck. Blake chokes on an aborted scream, sprinting across the floor and sliding on her knees to catch Ruby before she smacks the marble.

Tag is at her side in the span of what feels like a second. "She all right?"

Blake's jaw works but no words emerge. Thankfully she doesn't have to say anything as Ruby tries to shake off the daze. Then both faunus look up in unison at the rhythmic, punctuated and sickening _SMACK-SMACK-SMACK_ that echoes through the room.

Somehow Yang had managed to snatch Qrow right out of Ruby's grasp, and now had him by the ankle as she slams him to the floor -over and over- like he's little more than sack of loose bones and spare parts. Surprisingly the marble doesn't buckle beneath the force of the impact, but is instead painted with shuddering spatters of red. After several agonizing seconds of this she drops him, the older huntsman flopping flat on his back, face covered in enough blood to diffuse any features other than the most basic outline of his jaw and cheekbones. Yang looms over him, hand snapping into a solid fist and rising over her head.

In the same instant Ruby forces her focus back together and tears herself away from Blake in a flurry of rose petals and a burst of magic. Moving faster than a thought she jets between her sister's knees to snatch Qrow by the collar before that terrible fist can strike him, blood smudging across the marble as Ruby rematerializes several feet away.

"What happened?" Blake asks, wide eyes fixed on her partner. As much as she wants to she still can't move. How she managed to stand up she has no idea, only partly aware that she's standing at all.

"In short, her uncle said everything he shouldn't have." Tag's eyes are still glowing, like her palms as she readies more magic. "We have to calm her down somehow before Miss Weiss no longer has a home."

"How?"

Tag doesn't have an answer, though her mouth moves helplessly in an attempt to offer one. Frankly even she's lost; Ruby couldn't reach Yang, so what the hell was _she_ supposed to do about this?

"...Maybe if we get Qrow out of sight," it's the best Tag can think of. "You and I can distract her long enough for Ruby to move him. After that maybe we can wear her out." Because there's no way _anyone_ could burn aura like that for very long.

Blake just nods as the two faunus advance, Tag wasting no time and going straight into the thick of things and Blake veering off to the right.

Tag closes the gap between them in mere seconds, scrambling on all fours and bolstering her aura as she leaps towards Yang, latching onto the girl's back and weaving her limbs around her. Her arms work under Yang's and lock behind her head, the faunus' powerful legs circling her waist and her ankles hooking together. Anywhere that skin touches skin, Tag can feel it's scalding hot. With a protesting grunt, Yang's aura flares, a veil of flames flashing up around her. Crimson mingles furiously with green as Tag's own aura resists. Yang's body is twisting hard, her one hand trying its damnedest to reach back and grab at her. All the while Blake slips to Ruby's side, encouraging her to move and get Qrow as far away as possible. Just as Ruby slips away in a flurry of flowers, Yang snatches Tag by the tail and swings her hard to the floor, her body bouncing. Without thinking Blake throws herself at her partner, putting enough force behind her strides to force her back several steps, then her semblance flashes as she backs away, leaving behind a clone of solid ice to hold Yang in place -no matter how briefly. And it is _brief_ , Blake just manages to get Tag to her feet again as the clone breaks apart and a chunk of ice flies passed her head. Tag is struggling to breathe against the awful sucking feeling in her chest, the wind knocked right out of her.

Yang turns around in one sharp twist, possibly following the powerful pulse of Ruby's aura as she tops the staircase. Her little sister is there for only a second, pausing long enough to look back and see Yang break into a lumbering sprint towards the stairs, and then she's darting off again. Blake and Tag work in tandem to slow her down, maybe stop her, one sending a sheet of ice across the floor in congress with the other's wave of water. Yang avoids the ice simply by closing the distance to the foot of the staircase with a push of aura and a well-timed jump, while the surging water strikes her soundly between the shoulders only to erupt into a column of thick white steam. The brawler's footprints are scorched into the carpet that runs up the steps as her strides ascend three at a time, steam jetting from between her teeth hot and terrible like a freight train.

"This isn't working," Blake can feel panic vibrating through her.

"We have to keep trying or she'll tear this place apart. Come on, she has to burn out eventually,"

Before they can even reach the foot of the stairs, Yang has already topped them and disappeared onto the landing of the second floor. There Ruby comes jetting from around the corner at the far end of the hallway, stopping at its head with determined resolution tightening her face. She plants her feet and puts her arms out, putting herself in her sister's path. Somehow she feels it in her gut that she can't let Yang get by. No matter what, she has to stop her _here_.

But Yang keeps coming, charging right at her with no signs of slowing. When she gets too close, Ruby feels the magic in her bristle just beneath the skin like a reflex. Her Maiden mark blossoms with light and energy in the same tense second her aura propels her forward. Everything blurs together, her thoughts, her vision, and becomes static after a hard, painful _SMACK_ as the two collide.

Tag and Blake are halfway up the stairs when they hear the solid impact, looking up to see a mass of crimson and gold come tumbling down towards them -their bodies twisted too tightly together to see what's happening, who's got the advantage if any. They watch from the step they stand on, Blake visibly shocked to discern the unfamiliarity of Ruby's more _lupine_ appearance. Something in the faunus jerks reflexively, tensely, a little bell in the back of her mind chiming in warning - _dog alert, dog alert_! But she can't look away as the massive red wolf is shoved away and quickly recoups to snap its teeth around a portion of Yang's tank top, pulling and pulling to keep Yang from getting back up.

Then the almost instinctive fear of dogs dissipates, snapping out of existence as Yang twists onto her stomach in one wild motion, her enraged growl echoing throughout the room. There's something on her back, now visible as the wolf pulled the shirt up around Yang's shoulders. At a glance it looks like a tattoo, but she knew Yang didn't have one. She's knew it for fact.

Tag catches the look on Blake's face, suddenly distracted by her own curiosity. "What's wrong? What," then she follows her fellow faunus' line of sight, picking up the hints of color among all the blistering redness of Yang's skin. "What is,"

Then Ruby gives a particularly hard jerk against the straining cloth as Yang takes a blind swing at her, pulling the tank top a little higher still.

"Oh my god," Blake pales. It's _her emblem_ stretched across the middle of Yang's back in perfect, opaque and dark relief. And it's big, about the size of one of Yang's big hands. "H-how," her thoughts are darting back and forth in her mind, frantically searching for the answer to her unfinished question. She can't imagine...but the magic can. The _magic_ knows.

_You trust me?_

_Always._

Trust, the ultimate promise two people like them could ever make to another living thing.

"That's yours?"

It takes a second, but Tag's voice pulls her back to center, her amber and crimson eyes snapping to her fellow Maiden. "Y-yes."

"Good,"

 _Good?!_ "H-how...I don't even know how it actually got there,"

"It doesn't matter, we can discuss it later," Tag shakes her head, "you can help her out of this. You can bring her aura back down."

"I can?"

"You're her Maiden," is the only reason she gives, which Blake assumes will have to do for now. "Ruby and I can keep her occupied."

"But what do I do? Glynda never told me about this!"

"Because it's unique to the _both_ of _you_ , there's nothing she could have told you that wouldn't have been completely wrong. You have to reach out to her, find the link between you, and...do what you can."

For a moment they just look at each other, Blake's expression belying an attempt to say something. "B-but even _Ruby_ can't reach her." And Yang loved Ruby more than anything in the world.

"All Ruby has are words, you have something _deeper_. I know you can do it, and we have to try -for Yang's sake. None of us want to have to hurt her, and I certainly don't want to give her the chance to do something she'll regret."

Blake swallows after a moment of tense thought. "You're right. I'll try to work quickly."

" _Carefully_. Don't force her, not unless you have no other choice."

Blake nods, feeling her stomach threatening to drop when Tag hurries down the stairs to help Ruby. It takes a second or two for her to get her scattering thoughts together, tensing as she watches. Ruby keeps a death grip -death _bite_?- on Yang's clothes even as she manages back to her feet, constantly pulling in resistance to any step her sister might take even as it looks like the brawler's shirt is about to rip free. Tag does her part by keeping Yang's attention on her, anything to keep her from going after Ruby or getting loose of the wolf's jaws.

Blake feels her magic pulse bright and warm beneath her skin when her focus finally centers, her gold irises shimmering red. Her ears fold back in a sharp flit atop her head and she senses her aura swelling, coalescing and reaching out. And while she doesn't know exactly what she's looking for, the magic does; it's searching for its ally, the invisible tether between a Maiden and her Guardian. When it finds the link, like a silken strand drifting in the ether, and grabs hold _tight_ , it's like grabbing a live wire. Magic and aura and fire and fury come racing through the connection and into Blake the same way a bullet races through flesh and bone. Her body buckles and she hits her knees, almost falling down the stairs.

 _Push through it, push -oh god, it hurts, it's too much-_ _**push** _ _. Do it for_ _**her** _ _, she needs you_ . _Don't run away this time..._

Countless thoughts and feelings shoulder their way into her perception, stampeding for Blake's attention alongside a scraping, white hot static of _noise_ . Innumerable words, phrases, broken up with wrenching screaming that burns, everything but intent left as ashes. Blake can _feel_ what they mean, and the discernment that comes with reeling in the tether feels like razor wire parting gray matter - _slowly_. Every tug on her end is agonizing, tight, unyielding. Whatever it is that the magic is trying to pull out of Yang, the brawler is holding onto it like her life depends on it.

 _IT'S MINE._ _**MINE** _ _. YOU CAN'T HAVE IT_.

Like nails on a chalk board the words grate across Blake's mind, the faunus coiling sharply inward at the awful migraine the snarling declaration leaves behind.

 _I WON'T LET YOU TAKE THIS._ _**EVERYONE** _ _IS ALWAYS_ _**TAKING** _ _FROM ME_.

But Blake can't let go, even though a part of her desperately wants to. Every syllable stings like white hot embers in her skull.

"Blake, get up! You have to hold your ground or she'll-" Tag doesn't get a chance to finish, unable to speak around a full set of knuckles knocking at her teeth, her consciousness snuffed out like a candle.

Blake's eyes are watering, reflexive tears in reaction to the ethereal pain that makes her aura and the magic in her bristle. She tries to lift her head and open her eyes, failing the first two attempts before forcing it with a grunt on the third. She takes a series of deep, grounding breaths, filling her lungs to capacity, letting her ribs stretch outward -a discomfort that she could control and focus on. Little by little she pulls herself back together, sucks down the tears, catches her breath, and forces her mind to accept and begin to work around the pain. Blake renews her grip on the magical tether, though she doesn't grasp as tightly as possible, just holds on. With wary, measured pulses of her aura, Blake starts to push against the scathing fire of Yang's energy. Like walking blindfolded and barefooted over hot coals, unsure yet fearless.

The Summer Maiden's awareness is greeted by a wall of fire and sparks and more grinding noises, a wall of resistance and aggression. _Persona non grata_ of the worst kind. But instead of quailing, retreating, she presses on. Gentle, _gentle_ , coaxing advances devoid of any intent to smother the flames; if she wanted Yang to respond to her, she needed to approach without expectations, a willing sacrifice to be spared or viciously immolated.

With a certain, anxious care, Blake tries. _It's okay_.

Yang physically reacts, twisting against Ruby's jaws, shirt ripping as she tries to face the stairs again. _NO. IT'S MINE. YOU CAN'T TAKE THIS. NOT_ _**THIS** _ _._

Blake flinches at the sensation of sparks popping across her nerves. _I'm not. I promise. It's okay. I won't take this away._ Yet in a way she's lying as she tugs a little on the link between them, drawing it in. The sweltering heat washes over her, smothering, but she maintains. _It's all right, you can be angry. We've put your through too much, pushed you too far._

 _**YOU** _ _PUSHED ME_ . The rage flares, making the tether thin like a strand of molten glass, fragile. _YOU_ _**ALL** _ _PUSHED ME. THIS IS_ _**YOUR** _ _FAULT._

 _Yes, it's our fault. We hurt you..._ _**I** _ _hurt you so much..._ _**so many times** _ _,_ tears are threatening again, though this time brought about by a different sort of pain. _You have every right to be angry, and we don't deserve you._

The response is an abrasive storm of sound, Blake's gut twisting on itself as it shakes her to her marrow.

 _**I** _ _don't deserve you, your friendship, your forgiveness...anything. None of us do._

_STOP STOP STOP. LET ME BE ANGRY. I LIKE IT. I WANT TO STAY STRONG._

_Yang, you're already so strong. You're the strongest out of all of us._ Blake tugs again, gaining a little ground. _But you're tired, aren't you? I know you're tired. You've been strong for so long, you must be exhausted._ _Please, let me help. It's okay._

 _**NO** _. The word roars like a thundering backdraft, a scorching flashbang of fury that leaves Blake's consciousness feeling raw, the thread between them thinner still. But she keeps pulling, earning inch by inch.

 _**Please** _ _,_ she tries once more, _please. I won't take it away, just let me help you carry it. Let me hold a little so you can rest. Then you can tell us what you need, and we'll_ _**listen** _.

 _NO NO NO. NO ONE_ _**EVER** _ _LISTENS_ _**. NO ONE EVER LISTENS TO ME.** _

Yang's shirt finally rips, a portion of it snagged on Ruby's fangs while the rest flops pitifully about Yang's waist. She's barreling towards the staircase again, arm and legs pumping as hard as they can to propel her forward. Blake tenses, bracing, the magic reeling in the tether as quickly as possible. She's ready to take whatever is coming for her, but she hopes she doesn't have to. Because it's going. To. _Hurt_.

 _Get up, get_ up _stupid, she's going to crush you!_ But again Blake finds herself paralyzed, and just keeps pulling the tether.

Yang can feel the magic pulling like a red hot coal nestled just below her shoulder blades. It's the kind of pain she _hates_ . In a strange way it both stokes and soothes the rage boiling in her guts. Yang wants to be angry, she wants to lash out, she wants to reduce everything within her reach to a smoldering pile of dust but _**she** _ _won't let her_ ! For the first time ever, as she reaches the foot of the stairs and takes the first step, Yang looks at Blake with rage. And the faunus meets her eyes with... _terror_.

Something new jumps across the link between them. It jolts through Yang as her scorched mind processes the look in her partner's eyes. That look, the dilated irises coupled with the desperate cinch of her brow and low slant of her ears, and that jarringly _cold_ sensation shoving along their link makes the brawler stumble. She almost eats the step in front of her, perching on her heated palm and balls of her feet like a sprinter about to take to a race.

The icy chill in her pitches hard, clenching at the burning fury in her stomach and it keeps her in place. Her body lurches but none of her limbs leave their place. She's starting to sweat, a few scant beads of it that aren't swallowed up into steam roll to drip from her chin and nose. Her face twists into an almost pained and toothy snarl. The fire is dying and she doesn't know why. Images jump into her mind, thoughts not her own that continue to squelch the heat by steady degrees. A white mask, and behind it are angry, dark and scolding eyes. Blood red hair and horns hidden in the backswept tresses. A toothy snarl brimming with a vicious temper, a perfect match for those eyes. Swinging fists, knuckles connecting with a staggering mental impact, dizzying.

 _Memories,_ the word pulses through her head like a touched nerve, _**her** _ _memories. But why-_

Then she feels something like being stabbed in the back of the skull -realization- her fist pounding against the marble stair at the pain.

 _She's afraid of you. Just like she was afraid of_ _**him** _ _._ _**No** _ _, you can't be_ _**him** _ _, you can't let yourself be_ _**him** _ _._ _**DON'T BE HIM** _ -

Blake feels the tension on the link loosen, almost drop completely, and instinctively pulls, drawing in the yawning inferno of Yang's aura until it's little more than smoldering coals. The brawler collapses, dropping to her knees and elbow and forehead on the stairs. The redness in her skin is starting to dim, the flames snuffed and embers darkened. She's gasping for air and her body is shaking _-_ no, _shivering_.

Out of the corner of her eye Blake sees Ruby advancing on the stairs, stilling her team leader with a gesture of her hand. The wolf becomes a girl again and waits anxiously, silver eyes moving in rapid exchange between Blake and her sister. The faunus' concentration is briefly broken by the tattered bit of shirt stuck to the corner of Ruby's mouth -she must have caught on to it as Ruby spits and brushes it away. The two of them offer up silent signals, non-verbal questions and answers in the span of seconds. Ruby hesitates, looking to mean to protest, but she relents and backs away slowly, eyes lingering on Yang as she goes to check on Tag who's still out cold.

Blake feels like this is something she needs to handle, like it's her mess to clean up so to speak. Not that she would ever think of Yang as a _mess_. Her partner was a victim -just like all of them were in one way or another, but it seemed like Yang was the only one out of the lot that had yet to get what she needed to recover. Maybe it isn't too late...

Blake eases forward, still crouched low but perched on the balls of her feet a step up from Yang. A little further and she braces on one palm, her fingertips centimeters from touching her partner's. "...Yang?" it comes out more dry and hoarse than she meant it to, and she hopes Yang could still hear her.

Over the pounding of still too hot blood in her ears, Yang just picks up the distant echo of her own name. Her jaw doesn't want to work, stuck in a clenched position even though its making her teeth hurt. She just nods, feeling curls of her hair sticking to her sweaty cheeks. Then she feels something, hears the muffled shifting of a nearby body. " _Don't_." she grunts, panting. "Don't touch me."

"Y-Yang, I-,"

"It _hurts_ , okay?" It finally comes out. "Just...just give me a minute...feel like I'm gonna puke." Yang forces herself to move, pushing up on her hand, using her body weight to lean over until she rolls onto her backside. Her head falls back with a bark of discomfort, sweat rolling over every inch of bare skin as she sprawls across the steps. "Shit,"

Blake just waits, watching, a million words rolling through her mind that can't find purchase in her mouth. All she wants to do is help, to reach out, to comfort her. She's itching to do _something_ , but her better judgment tells her to wait.

"I'm sorry." Yang exhales roughly. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't." Blake responds immediately. "This wasn't your fault."

She almost laughs as tears slip down her face alongside the sweat. The adrenaline is dying and everything is sinking in like the plunger of a syringe. "I'm sorry I scared you. I...didn't want that. I didn't want any of this." Then her face scrunches up, her palm moving over her eyes where it rests. She's quiet a moment, then come little restrained sobs. "I'm _s-sorry_ ,"

"Oh _no_ ," Tag's voice echoes through the finally quiet room unevenly, like she has only just regained control of her faculties, which she has. Ruby is helping her stand up again, her base unsteady and her tail making up for the way she wobbles, only a little punch-drunk. She seems thoroughly unfazed by the blood gushing down the front of her from her split lip and busted nose. "No, no, no! You will _not_ apologize -oh my," she teeters again, Ruby's arms around her waist to keep her upright. When she feels steady she eases away, making resolute and off-center strides towards the stairs with Ruby close behind. "Now where is that...that _asshole_?"

Both Blake and Yang look at her, Yang wiping her eyes and sniffling, Blake's ears pricking curiously. "...Asshole?"

" _Qrow_ ," she shouts. "Where is he?"

Ruby shrinks at her side when no one answers. "I...I left him upstairs...w-with Ren and Nora."

Tag just nods with a little snort, lips in a thin line and brow slanted tightly. Carefully she steps away from Ruby and starts up the stairs.

Blake shrinks too as she feels the Spring Maiden's aura flare around when she passes. "W-where are you..."

"To give that _shitbird_ of a man a piece of my mind! After the nasty things he said, it's the _least_ he'll be getting from me!" with her hands balled into tight fists at her sides she marches up the staircase, only wobbling once just before she reaches the top. "I don't even know the whole _-OH!_ He should be _ashamed_ of himself," is the last the girls hear of it.

Blake and Ruby are looking at each other again, seemingly lost. Then they both look at Yang who appears content to stare at the floor, maybe fixated on the scorched outline of her footprint in the carpet.

"What," Ruby squeaks a little, cautious, "...should I call her doctor? I mean...could that have hurt...you know, the thing?"

Blake takes a breath through her nose, finding a little more of her composure, part of her feeling like a majority of the crisis is over. "Yeah, just to be safe. Would that be okay, Yang?"

She just nods, an upward jerk of her head as the heel of her palm pushes across her eyes again. "What about Uncle Qrow...is he..." Because Yang would swear she hit him, hit him hard, but trying to think back to it -to clarify it to herself- is met with red smoke and blurred lines in her mind's eye.

Ruby's hands fuss in front of her briefly. "...I'll ask her to bring a friend." She knows she needs to move, to fetch her scroll and get to her task, but there's an awkward feeling need to stay. She feels like she needs to be here for Yang, but some little piece of her senses a mote of responsibility for this -senses she might not be wanted.

Blake nods. "Go ahead, Ruby, I'll watch things until you're done."

Yang can sense her sister's presence diminish and disappear, some of the weight easing from her shoulders at one less pair of eyes bearing down on her. It lets her breathe just a little easier, though its still tough for her to recover -her heart is threatening to slam straight through her ribs. And by _gods_ it's hot in here.

A little more lucidity creeps through the dead heat in her head and she groans, her hand covering the side of her face. "Weiss is going to kill me."

"No she won't. I'm sure it'll be all right once we explain what happened." Blake assures her gently, soft spoken. "...What _did_ happen exactly?"

Yang cringes slowly, pulling her hand down her face and lifting her head. "I lost my temper. That's all."

"No it's not." she counters carefully. "Don't get me wrong, I know you have a bit of a...mean streak...but you don't _just lose it_ like this."

"Guess a lot's changed in the last year,"

"The only thing that's changed is that you're _tired_. Everybody has their limits and I think you've finally reached yours." Blake pauses when Yang cuts a caustic, almost hurt glare her way. "I'm not trying to tell you that you're weak -far from it- I just think you've...been holding in too much for too long."

"So what." she chuffs. "No different than before."

"That doesn't make it okay, Yang. I don't know where you got the idea that doing this alone was okay, but it isn't."

"You're a hell of a one to talk."

Blake recoils. That was fair, though. She earned that. But in spite of the slight, she tries the smallest of smirks. "I'm just returning the favor. You remember?"

Yang scowls, pushing her hand through her messy hair, straightening a little. Then a puff of air that resembles a laugh. "Yeah, I do. But, look," she shakes her head. "I appreciate what you're trying to do just...not now, okay? We can...just later. Please. I need...I want to process all this."

"Of course. Whatever you need," _just like I promised._ And in the same instant the thought forms in her mind, Yang looks at her, her irises a soft lavender again. Did she hear it? "...speaking of which, I'll get you a new shirt."

One gilded brow lifts, curious, before Yang's gaze drops to her bare stomach. "Oh. Yeah. Might need one of those. Thanks." She's partly thankful she's still wearing a bra, partly because she's hating how the garment is sticking to her still livid skin with sweat and heat. "Thanks...Blake?"

"Hm?"

"Did...is my uncle okay?"

Blake swallows, thinking. She needed to be careful with her answer. "I don't know. I mean...if he wasn't, Ruby would have said something."

"...I guess so." then Yang's eyes widen a charge of dread. "Oh god, did I hit her? Did I hit _you_?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Ruby too." she predicts the next question, "And you didn't hit Tag...not on purpose anyway." the older faunus ate Yang's fist on the backswing -one could hardly consider that intentional. "And she's obviously all right,"

Yang's head drops again, her body curling on itself like she's trying to hide. "I've made such a mess." comes her muffled groan.

Blake wants to touch her so badly, she wants nothing more than to offer up some tangible comfort but doesn't follow through. Although that isn't important now. What Blake wants isn't what all this is about. _It hurts_ still echoes in her mind, bringing with it a buzzing confusion and discomfort as to what it could possibly mean.

"Everything is going to be okay." she resigns to say, keeping her hands to herself. "We'll sort this out."

 

 

Author's Note: I honestly had no expectations for this to turn out this long. An entire chapter of nothing but our girls and ass whippings -how delightful. I spent a lot of time carefully considering how this sequence played out, thoughtfully picking out the right words because that was SUPER important. I had to make sure Yang took as little of the guilt as possible, because our blonde bombshell has been through hell. Thanks to strayphoenix for all their help, for letting me bounce ideas off them like so many golf balls -you're my jam, fam! Next chapter, Jaune enjoys some family time until a certain Grimm comes along to ruin the fun. Be sure to check out my tumblr for news, updates, and other fic related junk - luckyfirerabbit.tumblr.com - and I'll catch you some time soon!

 


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

Jaune still gets up before sunrise even though he hasn't had to since Billy scolded him a few days ago. He sits alone at the dinner table and picks at the plateful of last night's leftovers for his breakfast, thinking. Sometimes his sisters greet him as they move about in preparation for their morning chores, most of the time they don't, still too asleep and only capable of the most basic functions at this hour. Lola always sits with him, though they don't talk, and always gives him a little kiss on top of his head before she leaves to tend the animals.

He keeps practicing, mostly focusing on working his semblance seeing as his sparring partner has all but given up on him. He doesn't know what Billy has chosen to otherwise occupy themselves with -they haven't spoken to him and they have only seen each other at meals. It's coming more easily now and with more noticeable manifestations. In a way he has graduated from focusing on moving singular objects to crowds of smaller ones; scattering gravel from the path in front of the house to form a ring in the grass that he sits in the middle of, and pushing outward with his semblance until they're a certain distance away. _Good, now again._ But as he's here alone, in the quiet of the morning with Crocea Mors sheathed across his lap, he doesn't hear Billy in his head. He hears someone else, someone gentler, seemingly more proud and patient. It coaxes him, and he does it again. Countless times until it's as easy as breathing, until his body is tired in the way a well practiced muscle is tired. And while it isn't _strong_ yet, his semblance is consistent. It answers readily when he calls, and that's something.

" _There_ you are, numb-nuts,"

Jaune's concentration pops like a bubble and he shrugs. He can't see his sister, but he can hear her heavy steps coming down from the front stoup and onto the lawn."Good morning, Nessa."

"Get up, skinny, we're going fishing. Speaking of which, have you seen dad's wheelchair?"

"I'm kind of busy." he doesn't move. "And last I saw of it...it should be in him and mom's room, shouldn't it?"

"Checked already, dad can't remember where he had it last."

"Try the linen closet at the end of the hall, sometimes mom puts it there when she's cleaning."

"I'll check, in the mean time get out of the grass, you're scaring the straights."

Jaune just rolls his eyes and tries to get his focus back. Maybe if he just kept to his task they would take the hint and leave him alone. Maybe...which becomes a definite  _no_ . Nessa returns several minutes later with Noah in his chair, carefully navigating down the steps as she carries both of them. Yumi and Lola are just behind her, the littlest one leaping from the top step to go running through the grass to her brother. She jumps on his back, making him fold forward with a protesting grunt.

"Daddy says you have to come with us." Yumi declares, her arms draped over her brother's big shoulders.

Giving up, Jaune exhales and tips back his head before turning to look at her. "Is that so?"

"It is," Noah answers. "Come on, son, we've barely had any time with you since you've been back. I don't think it would hurt your work too much if you spent the morning with us."

"Gods know it won't make you suck any harder." Nessa snickers. "Let me get the poles."

"Come on, Jaune,  _please_ ?" Yumi takes handfuls of his hoodie and rhythmically tugs on it as  _please_ is drawn out for several seconds. "I'm gonna catch a  _big_ one today, and I want you to watch,"

Jaune takes a deep breath and smiles. "Alright, I'll go."

Yumi springs off his back with a loud  _YAY_ as she goes sprinting back towards her father, scrambling into his lap. Lola seems content to push Noah along, her corgis down for a nap leaving her to depend on him to guide her steps as he holds her cane and youngest sister. Jaune rouses himself, brushing the bits of dead grass from his backside after situating Crocea Mors on his hip. He waits for Nessa to pass him before he starts his feet to moving, his expression quirking after several steps.

"Is this a good idea? I mean, is it safe?" his question sounds like he's just thinking aloud, but he's expecting an answer of some kind.

"Of course it's safe, now that we've got a  _huntsman_ in the family again." Noah replies, sounding only somewhat sarcastic. "Your great grandad would be proud."

"You're the best Grimm bait we've got."

"Don't tease, Nessa," Lola tilts her head towards her sister. "Jaune's trained hard and is showing some real promise."

"Yeah, I bet we'll be taking his training wheels off in no time." she laughs.

"No more of that." Noah demands. "I know you kids are going to pick at each other -because that's what you lot  _do_ \- but find something else to harass your brother over. He's doing honest work and deserves our support."

"Alright, alright," Nessa groans, "sorry for busting your chops."

"Thanks, Nes-"

"Now if we could just get you to throw out those ugly-ass sneakers of yours,"

"What's wrong with my shoes?" he gapes, eyes boring into the back of the bigger twin's head.

"They're orange. They're awful."

"But-"

"I don't even know what orange looks like and I think they're terrible."

" _Lola_ ,"

"Sorry son, seems like it's a consensus." Noah chuckles. "But I think Alice is working on a new pair of boots for you since you brought the last ones home full of holes, so you'll only have to be lame a little longer."

"Come  _on_ , I'm not lame. Yumi doesn't think I'm lame, do you, honey-bunny?"

The littlest Arc perches her chin on her father's shoulder and looks back at her brother with a bright expression. "You're not lame, you're just a dork."

"Fine. I'll take what I can get." and in spite of it all, Jaune just smiles.

 

It's colder around the lake, within a couple more weeks it would likely start to ice over, bringing the first snow of the season with it. Noah wouldn't normally insist on such an outing this late in the year -they likely wouldn't catch anything anyway- but Jaune was home and there was no telling when he would have to leave again, so any chance he could have with his only son wouldn't be overlooked.

The lot of them settle on the bank closest to the well worn path that brought them here, not entirely unaware of the possibility of needing a quick getaway. Grimm weren't anything to turn your nose up about. But there didn't appear to be any apprehension in any of them as they unconsciously move into a line along the bank, only steps apart, and start fussing with fishing hooks and passing along a glass jar full of nightcrawlers to bait them with. Nessa jabs her brother in the ribs gently, grinning like a fool as she asks him to "warm hers up a little", the worm coiling in her fingers as she holds it up. He politely declines with a little laugh, not at all in the mood to have that slimy thing being dropped into his shirt. Yumi stays in Noah's lap, both of them content as he shows her how to properly bait a hook and lets her try her hand at casting. Lola sits beside her father on the soft, still somewhat green grass, finding one of his hands with hers and holding on. She knows after a while he'll start to stroke her hair and longer ears, something she has always loved and has gone too long without lately.

Jaune pays divided attention to his line, hardly noticing the slight tugs on it. Dozens of different thoughts try to garner his focus at the same time, crowding until he lets them drown themselves out, until he's thinking of nothing in particular at all. Instead he partly fixates on the ripples in the water and partly on the easy in-and-out of his own breathing. Just lets his brain drift in nothing for a change. Though sometimes it strays to latch onto something, a noise or motion in the corner of his eyes. Reflexive, uncontrollable. The reflection of ducks flying overhead towards the south, a few bubbles in the water. Soft splashing sounds as Yumi pulls on her rod to lift a catfish out of the water with an excited giggle. Though this catfish doesn't look like the others; it's jet black all over with what look like thick white plates going along the length of its spine and covering its face, and its wide set eyes appear to glow.

"What does daddy always say about fishing, honey?" Noah asks in that way only parents seem to know how.

"Fucking huckles," Yumi proudly replies, only for it to redden her father's face and make him quickly clear his throat as his other daughters laugh.

_Fucking huckles_ drifts through Jaune's head as a distant echo, right beside the ignored compulsion to laugh as well. He had heard that phrase countless times since...since he was old enough to understand and remember words, the memory holding more clarity than even the days when Noah didn't need crutches to walk. He remembers toddling along the banks of the lake repeating the word "huckle" over and over like a favorite, worn-out song, remembers when he was maybe Yumi's age when the twins had convinced him "huckle" was his name to the point where it was the only thing he'd answer to. That had made his mother _particularly_ angry. And he begrudgingly recalls his early teens and his sisters' laughter at the bright purple hickeys all over his chest and face -extra points for the ones on his nipples- from Nessa throwing the bottom-feeders at him until they stuck to his skin via their mouths.

Once huckles got a hold of you, it took everything short of a crowbar to get them off. Tenacious to a fault, just like any other Grimm. Though they are likely the only breed of Grimm in all the world that garnered more ridicule than fear with their non-existent predatory instincts that consisted of drifting on the surface with their round, rubbery mouths hanging open, sometimes blowing muddy bubbles as they wait for something to maybe fall in. The smaller ones didn't even have visible teeth to speak of, and if they did they were much too lazy or too stupid -or both- to use them. Jaune would snag one on his line -actually snag it, the hook going through the lame creature's side- and took a moment to just stare at it as he tried to work the hook out. Its spindly red whiskers stiffened as if in warning, its mouth working quickly as it gasped for breath. Once he was able to Jaune just shook his head and tossed it back. _Fucking huckles_.

"Jaune?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"I noticed you and your friend haven't been talking much." he seems tentative to say aloud, as if he's crossing some invisible line. "Can I ask why?"

"Jaune put it in the wrong hole." Nessa interjects, giggling wildly to herself when she sees the way her brother gapes at her. But immediately stops and withdraws when she catches her father's scolding glare.

"It's...it's nothing serious." Jaune tries, almost losing the white lie mid-sentence.

"With all due respect, son," Noah chuckles, "I don't really buy that. Try again."

Jaune's features stretch with mild surprise as he turns his head and meets his father's curious and expecting eyes. His jaw works to form words but none emerge, a part of him wholly unprepared to explain himself further than that.

"Was there a disagreement? Because that's what Jessica made it sound like."

Jaune almost says his sister's name, pausing just as his teeth came together to form the first syllable of the inquiry. "Well...we didn't fight."

"Isn't that part of the problem? I mean, considering what they've been teaching you for the last month."

"Well, yeah, but," he fumbles. His thoughts are trying to crowd too many words into his mouth at once, so he goes quiet again. "...It's stupid."

"Can't say I buy that either. It's obviously not stupid to you,"

Jaune takes a deep breath, stalling long enough to reel in his line and cast again. "It's just...Billy and I...we just don't see eye to eye on certain things. Unfortunately they're rather big things."

"Oh? Like what?"

He takes a moment, trying to get his thoughts together. "I know...I know that becoming a huntsman comes with a lot responsibility, a lot of big stuff...I'm going to have to make some really hard decisions. I get that. But,"

Noah waits, brows lifted, then "But what?"

"...Fighting Grimm just isn't the same thing as what Billy's expecting me to do."

"Ah." Noah nods slowly, the gesture only a little exaggerated. "I think I see."

"You do?"

"I think so. Everyone has a certain something, son," he shifts in his seat, one arm around Yumi's waist so she doesn't fall. "No matter who they are, where they come from, how they were raised, everyone has something about them that they -how to put it," his brow furrows, lips thinning, his handlebar mustache puckering, "they draw a bright red ring around it. It's a line they never want to cross for any number of reasons. Maybe crossing it will change who they are or how they see the world, maybe it'll hurt someone they love in a way they can't fix. Something like that?"

"I...I guess so. Yeah." it was a seemingly simple explanation for the matter of things, but it was better than any articulation he could come up with.

"It isn't just about Grimm now, is it?"

"No. Not since Beacon fell."

"Now you've got humans in the mix, that makes things a little too gray for you, huh?"

"Yeah." Jaune nods, only partly aware that he's doing it. "I've never wanted to hurt anyone."

"I don't doubt that." Noah smiles, quietly proud. "You've got a big heart, son, you really do. All you kids just love to love, you know? Though I'll admit, you're the gentler of the lot. Your sisters take too much after your mother," His smile widens when he feels Lola lightly swat his shin with her hand. "Still, it's like you said, being a huntsman comes with hard decisions, decisions you'll have to make for the people who can't make it themselves -never mind what you feel is right or wrong. People are going to depend on you to do what's best for them, to do what keeps them safe."

"You ever crossed your red line, dad?"

"Once. Sometimes they change...the line moves around other things. Disobeying your granddad used to have the biggest, brightest line around it. Not that I was scared of him, just I respected him and his opinion of me meant so much," Noah started sounding a little nostalgic, which he quickly swallowed. "My dad wanted me to be a huntsman like him, like _my_ grandfather was -you know how it is sometimes- and I wanted that too...until the day came to ship me off, that is. I was all set and ready to go, too," he laughs. "Had my backpack and Crocea Mors and I even got on the train to Vale...but somewhere between here and there...I crossed the line."

For a moment Jaune watches him, watches the age-lines around Noah's eyes shift.

"Something in my head clicked and I decided to stay on the train. At some point I realized as hard as I had worked to please my father...it didn't please me. And I'm sure you know how teenagers are, sometimes we just want something for ourselves because we're young and think we know everything. So I just rode the train to the end of the line and just... _went_. Now that I think about it, I must have made the right choice; I might have had the guts to be a huntsman, but I clearly didn't have the spine for it." and he gestures neutrally to his wheelchair and smirks.

"Wasn't this around the same time you met mom?" Lola asks from where she sits, enjoying her father's palm stroking the top of her head and ears.

"That wasn't for a few more years yet, but it's what eventually brought us together, yeah."

"So where did you go?" Jaune asks, wondering why he hadn't heard this story before.

"The train's last stop was on the southern border of the kingdom, just before the mountain range that separates us from Vacuo. I was terrified. It was the furthest from home I'd ever been and I had no idea what I was going to do. I didn't have but a few Lien to my name, certainly not enough for another ticket, not to _anywhere_."

"But grammy taught you to play guitar." Nessa adds, then hisses at the huckle wriggling on her hook.

"She sure did, otherwise your dear old dad would've starved." he laughs, shifting in his chair again. "I guess the point I'm trying to make, son, is that sometimes you cross your line, whether you mean to or not. And just because you do, doesn't mean the world stops turning."

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't see how your situation is the same as mine." Jaune exhales, more so deflates.

"I'm not saying it is, I'm just saying I can relate a little. I was troubled and scared just like you are now, I thought I'd never be the same after I finally got off that train -and to a degree that's entirely true. I'm not trying to cheapen your dilemma, Jaune, really, just...I understand, okay?"

He nods, still seeming unsure. "So what should I do?"

"Follow your gut, I say. If it's important enough that you don't cross it, you'll find a way, because in the end the only one you have to answer to is _yourself_."

_That's not true. Not this time._ Because this was so much bigger than getting off or staying on a train. It was bigger than stepping outside carefully crafted expectations of one's parents. It was life and death, be it his own or another's. And if it's another's, Jaune would have to answer for it. If he couldn't follow through, someone _else_ would likely pay. It had happened once before - his mind pulses sharply, _Amber_ \- so who's to say such horrible circumstances wouldn't repeat.

Noah watches him, watches Jaune's frown deepen and darken his features. "Sorry if that didn't help. Your mother has always been better at this sort of thing."

"It's all right, dad. Thanks for trying all the same."

Noah frowns and quietly shrugs. "In any case, Billy's just going to have to accept things as they are. Just some things you can't demand a man change about himself."

Jaune just nods, not entirely sure if he's agreeing with his father or just acknowledging him. He's trying to let his thoughts fizzle into white noise again. For a time he's content to sit, once again ignoring the little tugs on the end of his line. Eventually he reels it in, the hook now bare of bait, and sets the rod down on the grass. He stands up and stretches, meaning to walk along the bank for a spell, maybe clear his head.

"Jaune?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"This thing your mom's been so worried about," Noah clears his throat, "have you seen it?"

"Yeah."

"What's it look like?"

Jaune's brows cinch together, confused. "Why?"

"Just want to be sure I'm not seeing things."

Tension snaps through every last muscle, the young hunter's back straightening and his hand moving instinctively for his weapon.

"Be still, son, I don't think it knows I spotted it."

"Where is it?" Jaune's looking and looking, finding nothing out of place.

"In the trees on the far side of the lake." Lola answers, her head up and erect ears working in quick flits atop her head. "I think it's trying to work its way behind us."

Jaune is still trying to catch a glimpse of the Grimm, all the while forcing his heartrate to stay under control, to keep the thrumming muscle in his chest and out of his throat where it's trying to crawl up into. How on earth is his father so calm? How are any of them still so calm?

"Nessa?"

"Yeah, daddy?" the bigger twin sounds unaware, though her ears are high and alert as well.

"I want you to head back to the house, real calm and casual. Once you're out of sight, you run as fast as you can and fetch your mother." Because he is certain nothing alive can outrun Nessa.

"What about you?"

"Lola's here, and Jaune, between the two of them we'll make it long enough for you to get back."

"It's closer, daddy." Lola interjects softly, only the slightest waver of worry to her voice.

"Should I take Yumi with me?"

Noah tucks his youngest closer, garnering her attention. "She's safe with us, wouldn't want her to slow you down on the off chance that thing chases you."

Nessa seems reluctant, but eventually nods and sets her rod aside. She stands and stretches, doing her best to suppress any signs of anxiety or bristling body language. "I'll be quick."

"I know you will." and he offers a little smile, hoping it helps. He watches her until he can't see her anymore. "Yumi, sweetheart, let dad have the rod for a second."

"Okay." She look up at him curiously as he sets it on the ground and then hands Lola her cane. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he smiles to her - _if you're calm, the kids are calm._ "It's just that I need you to play the quiet game with me for a while, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because it's been too long and I forgot how to play. Could you remind me?"

"Daddy," the older daughter shifts beside Noah's chair, perching on the balls of her feet, ears warily pulling back.

"I know, Lola, I know," he feels his own nerves starting to tighten. Even _he_ can hear it now, a swift shuffling within the treeline, and he doesn't like the sound of it one damn bit. "So why don't you show me how to play?"

Jaune watches them, his eyes cutting briefly to the trees where he hears something move. He watches as Yumi tucks her head against her father's chest and holds as still as possible with her eyes closed per the rules of the game, watches as his father's face tightens steadily until he can't hide the worry anymore. As Lola slowly stands up, cane clutched in one hand, Jaune feels his own hand slowly closing around the handle of his sword, muscles bunching with the restrained intent to draw it.

_What the hell am I going to do? I can't stand toe-to-toe with this thing by myself. I can't._

He swallows again, the small hairs on his body bristling.

_But you_ _ **have**_ _to. It's not some random woman you just met -this isn't Amber. This is your family. Your baby sister can't help you. Your father is wheelchair bound. Lola can't see. -_ though, in all fairness, she looks ready for a fight- _They_ _ **need**_ _you to stand up for them._

"Do what you have to, kids." Noah says on a shaky exhale, shutting his eyes so Yumi wouldn't accuse him of cheating.

 

The warm, abrasive pulse of Jaune's aura had torn Manticore out of a dead sleep and compelled it from its den, setting it through the trees like a blooded hound. It could sense the boy was more or less alone, no giant _other_ swallowing up his energy as it usually did and no convergence to keep it at bay. If he wasn't on his own, anything or anyone in his company was nothing for it to worry over. Even if it had miscalculated that much, it sensed one of its ancient kin nearby.

One way or another, it was going to kill the boy _today_. Kill him, retrieve his eyes for the Witch _-take his entire fucking hide!_ \- and then maybe she would let it out of this pitiful shell.

It had watched them from the tree line just long enough to suss out their numbers, their auras if any. This just made it all the more confident of its pending success. Children and a cripple, it felt no fear of _them_ , and it still remembered the pitiful attempts at a fight Jaune had held up to it in Caissa. Yes, this would be simple. Its ego swells when it watches the largest of them get up and leave, sparking only a brief curiosity. There's no way they know it's here.

Manticore quickly rounded the lake with the intent to flank them, moving in sharp bursts from tree to tree to stay hidden until it was close enough to pounce. In the seconds before it broke its cover, it felt a pair of auras swell as if in warning. So they did know?

It acknowledges a mote of surprise and interest at the grinding shriek of drawn steel, the boy unsheathing his blade and opening his shield across his arm in congress with a sharp turn to face it. On all fours it scrambles across the half dead grass and takes one great leap, claws gripping and fangs bared, aiming for his neck. It certainly didn't expect to meet the solid wall of his semblance, for all of its momentum to come crashing in behind it and threaten to snap its spine in half. It recoils with an indignant growl, hissing as the human advances. It darts one way and then the other, thinking to confuse him, lunging again with the expectation of finally getting flesh in its grip only to be denied again by an intentional swipe of his blade. _When did this little bastard learn how to fight?!_

"Get dad out of here!" Jaune shouts over his shoulder before raising his shield, barely flinching as the Grimm's barbed tail snaps against it.

"I can manage, honey, you stay and help your brother." Noah quickly counters, his arms pumping to work the wheels of if his chair.

"I can run faster than you can push," Lola shakes her head, following her father's voice until she snatches the back of his chair and pushes into as full a sprint as possible. Noah just holds on for the ride.

Manticore's eyes instinctively cut to those who flee and flexes its host's semblance, working it in an almost careless wave to shove Jaune away as well as latch onto the metal frame of the wheelchair in the same instant. Lola's face almost smacks the back of her father's head, her quick reflexes the only thing that saves her. She half stumbles, one hand bracing against the now immobilized chair, the other clutching her cane a little tighter as she stands up. She tries to focus her ears on the punctuated crashes of steel to bone and sharp scraping noises, tries to drone out the way Yumi has started to whimper, likely terrified. Lola hones in on the sounds of the Grimm's footsteps, finding them erratic and much lighter than Jaune's, also greater in number -which strikes her as odd. Odd, but helpful, easier for her to focus on.

Jaune's struggling under the invisible force pulling his arms downward, trying to force him to yield. The Grimm just keeps coming with frantic sweeps of claws and its tail, yet a small part of him is shocked he's holding his own. He braces as Manticore charges him, runs him down, and throws itself against his shield with enough force to put him on his back. It lands on all fours and bears down on him again, jaws wide and toxic green eyes thin with savage intent. All Jaune can do is react, tucking his knees to his chest and pushing upward with his feet. He manages to catch the Grimm in the stomach, suffering only the most superficial of scratches to his thighs before the distance between the two of them opens. Manticore rolls through the grass, momentarily disoriented before it's on its feet again. Jaune feels the pull lessen and stands up, ready as he watches the Grimm's body bunching in preparation to pounce again.

Lola followed the sounds, fixating on what she believed was the Grimm and reached out with her aura. She felt it connect with the creature's strange life force as a sharp shiver runs up her back. She feels its intent to move and reacts in the same instant its taught musculature releases, her semblance flaring across the unseeable link. Manticore only takes a pair of predatory and scrambling lunges before it freezes in place. Like flipping a switch.

Jaune's eyes frantically move from the Grimm to his sister, never dwelling too long on one or the other. What the hell was going on? Why did it stop? Why had the magnetic pressure on his gear suddenly disappeared? When the Grimm starts moving again, his attention snapping back to it, its motions are frantic, unfocused. Its eyes are unfixed, darting in every direction as it blindly swipes its claws and tail on the _chance_ something is too close. Almost like it can't...can't see?

"Hurry, Jaune, I don't know how long I can keep this up," Lola warns him.

No response, just reaction. He takes a running start toward the Grimm and swings his shield once he's close enough. It's a solid collision announced by the dull crash of something like broken porcelain, throwing the Grimm off its feet and to the ground, bits of armor flying through the air and disappearing in the grass. For a moment it just lays there on its side, its tail limply rolling around behind it, then it lifts its head with a furiously confused look on its face. Part of its helmet has broken away, revealing its unnatural pallor as well as the shocking red veins breaking up its complexion. One staggering green eyes still jumps from one point to the other, still blind, and blinks through the thin veil of blood coming from the gash above its brow. It gets to its hands and knees and just starts thrashing again, spitting fire in its frustration.

"Go, Lola, while you can." Jaune shouts without turning his head, fixed on the Grimm. What he had always thought was part of the creature's armor, he can finally discern that the wild mane of red hair isn't part of the helmet, but its wearer. This...was this thing really human after all?

"But,"

"I can handle it for now, just get dad and Yumi _away_ from here."

She doesn't want to, it goes against all of her sisterly instincts like an iron rasp, but she knows her helpfulness would only be temporary. After that she's just another liability that could distract him and get him killed.

"Make a choice, honey, or I'm leaving without you," Noah cautions, finding he can move his chair again. Yumi tries to stay quiet as she sniffles against her father's neck, her face buried in his collar.

" _Go_ , I can do this!"

And while she isn't entirely sure if he can or not, she has to believe it.

Somehow Jaune knows when Manticore can see again before its behavior changes. Its wild dismay collapses into vicious focus, smoke coiling out of its mouth with a low growl. It bursts into a bipedal sprint towards him, its hands working to pull its lance out of the black plasma gathering in its palms. The Grimm closes the gap between them in a second, its first volley of thrusts creating sparks against the brunt of his shield. Jaune parries a sideways strike of its tail with his sword, keeping his shield up as Manticore keeps pressing from the front. When he feels the mounting tension, his instincts warning him of being overwhelmed, he gives a firm push with his semblance, sending the Grimm stumbling back.

Jaune advances into a wall of fire, ducking behind his shield and pushing through the sweltering heat until his body connects with something solid, preventing him from taking another step. Something hits the back of his leg and sweeps it out from under him. He's on his back again but keeps his focus intact. Peering over the top of his shield he watches the Grimm, taking a fraction of a second to react and move out of the path the rapidly descending blade of the lance. He answers the assault by snatching the long stock of the Grimm's weapon beneath his arm, trapping it long enough for him to put all his strength behind one. _Hard_. _Swing_. The lance is cut in half, the Grimm almost toppling on top of him. Jaune pushes again with his semblance, sending the creature flying.

Manticore won't let the human have a second to breathe, much less get to his feet. It lands on all fours, casting aside what's left of its weapon before advancing once more. It jumps into the air and comes crashing down, perching on his shield and pinning him to the ground. The human's eyes are wide with the wind being knocked from his lungs, holding the terrified expression as Manticore takes a deep breath and expels a cascade of flames over him. A golden glow sparks beneath the inferno, his aura reacting to protect him -something that surprises both human and Grimm alike. Once the shock passes Jaune fights back, smacking the crossbar of his sword into Manticore's jaw -again, and again, and _again_. More bits of its helmet break away in chunks. Finally it snatches his wrist, its bloodied face contorted with fresh rage as it swipes its free claws across his face.

Maybe it was the shock of his aura reacting without a conscious thought, maybe it was the unsettling reality of looking up into a more human face -Jaune can't explain how Manticore managed to break through and cut him. All he could comprehend is that it happened and hurt like hell, all of his focus suddenly yanked to the warm and wet sensation of blood coursing across his cheek and temple, then his forehead after a second raking strike.

_Oh god, this is it, this is it. I'm going to die here, I can't...can't._

No, focus. Focus. Breathe. _Push_.

A primitive grunt grinds its way out of his breathless body, the resulting golden flash almost too bright for him as Manticore is hurled straight up into the air. Jaune doesn't waste a second, rolling onto his hands and knees and struggling to his feet though his ribs still threatening to turn inside out. He blinks furiously, the blood stinging his eyes. He pulls his head up just in time to watch the Grimm come down, almost amused but not at all surprised when it lands heavily on its feet.

Before he can process it the Grimm is on him again, the suffocatingly close space between them slamming shut with one push of Manticore's limbs in congress with one another. It latches onto his shield with both hands, tucking its legs to put all of its weight on his arm and pull him down. His brain goes on the fritz, unknowing of how to respond to the tactic, and does the natural thing of going along with it. A mistake he'll never forget as the Grimm shoves its heel into his crotch in order to throw him, the force enough to pry the shield from his arm.

Manticore tosses the shield away, licking its lips as it confidently stalks towards the human. It's ready to end this, to take what that damned Witch wants so badly. A part of it had actually enjoyed this little tussle, though it would have preferred it without the damage to the host. Speaking of which, the poor girl is livid, pulling on the threads that bind them together like a rider pulls a bucking horse's reins. It can almost hear her desperate cries echoing in its mind. It's darkness drinks it in, savoring it.

When it realizes he's trying to get up again Manticore tackles him to the ground and settles over him. It catches his sword arm as it rises, attempting to run it through, and clenches its clawed fingers to dig into the meat of his forearm until his grip sputters and dies. Its free hand quickly closes around his throat, callously squeezing. Squeezing, _squeezing_ , until both of his hands grip it by the forearm in an attempt to break its hold on him, the human gasping feverishly. It reaches for his face, claws flexing.

Then Manticore's head snaps to the side at the horrible sensation of a white hot aura washing over it, a brutal solar flare of energy that makes the threads holding it together shudder, makes it... _afraid -NO NO THE OLD ONES FEAR_ _ **NOTHING**_. And the emotion only swells when it acknowledges the source; the rabbit-eared Witch -with an aura that size and that powerful, she couldn't be anything else- and the majority of her brood alongside that damned silver bison. It would have to work fast. _Stop being afraid. You don't feel fear. Take what you_ _ **-stop hurting him-**_ _came for!_

" _GET AWAY FROM_ _ **MY SON**_!" the command shatters the morning air with all the fury of a Witch -of a mother in fear for her child's life. Gypsy jumps from Billy's back, not even stumbling as she runs abreast the great animal before overtaking them and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is likely the only living thing that could outrun Nessa.

 

 

Author's Note: I need to knock it off with the cliffhangers, don't I? I could've squashed the entire scene into one chapter, but that just didn't feel quite right. But we'll be right back to it come the next one, which means we'll see a bit of what Gypsy can do as well as another of the Old Ones! I just want to give a shoutout once more to Strayphoenix for all the help they've given me, for letting me field so many stupid ideas with them to see if they're up to par. And to Draconic_noble for just be a super faboo follower. I love when people comment and leave me feedback, doubly so when they make an effort to do it every chapter. You're a cut above the rest folks, honest. See you next chapter!

 


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gypsy didn't have the time to fetch her revolvers or the closest, meanest looking kitchen knife she owned, her instincts told her to _just run_ the second she heard Nessa calling her from the front yard. She had called for her other daughters as she bolted through the house, expecting them to answer by following suit -her voice enough to even rouse Lola's dogs to action. The lot of them would meet Noah and Lola part way between the farm and the lake, Gypsy refusing to stop and only passing on the instruction for Bev to take them back to the house and _stay there_. It was around here that Billy caught up to them, hooves rumbling along the gravel path, allowing Gypsy to latch on and ride the rest of the way.

Seeing the Grimm hadn't scared her -no living thing could- yet seeing Jaune on his back, the shock of blood on his face and that awful creature perched on his chest shot her through with a tongue-swallowing horror the likes of which she had never experienced before. As she hits the ground running her ears flatten against the top of her head and her aura flares, her bright blue eyes shimmering like dying stars.

With flickers of aura pushing behind every step Gypsy barrels towards the Grimm, leaving the others in her dust. Her expression is set in a vicious snarl as she pushes off, raising one knee to connect with Manticore's side and send it flying through the air to hit the ground near the trees. But she doesn't stop, only slows for a split second to pick up her son's shield before running the creature down with the intent to teach it that no one -that is _no one_ \- lays a hand on her children.

 

The world is spinning as blood rushes back into his skull, his hand at his throat as his lungs working frantically to capture oxygen. Jaune unconsciously rolls onto his side, his free hand stupidly flailing against the grass in search of his sword. He knows it fell nearby and his half-starved brain is in a panic over being without it. Somehow he susses out the leather binding of the handle, grasping it like his life depends on it as he struggles to his knees. _Stop spinning, god, stop spinning._

Arms circle around him, trying to help him up. "We're here, little brother, don't worry."

"Jess," he's panting, still fighting to get his focus back. His knees threaten to buckle as he straightens.

"Come on, we'll get you back to the house, mom can handle this."

"No," Jaune shakes his head hard, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "No, mom will kill it."

"That's the idea, boy," Billy grunts from beside him, though Jaune has yet to compose himself enough to see them. "Don't be foolish now, do as your sister says."

" _No,_ " he shouts this time, "we have to-"

Before he can finish his sentence all eyes cut to the sudden crash of bone and steel, enough force behind the impact to make the metal of the shield audibly ring. What they see is Gypsy following through with a great swing of her arm, blood spattered across the twin moon insignia and the Grimm-thing's head snapping back to follow the shrapnel of the remains of its helmet. Its human face is now fully exposed, wild strands of crimson hair stuck to its skin with blood and sweat.

The creature collapses onto all fours, looking only partly dazed as it glares back at Gypsy with a defiant snarl. Its tail rises in an instant, the barb hovering for only a second before the appendage whips in response to Gypsy's renewed advance. When the Witch raises the shield to ward it off, Manticore unleashes a swath of white hot flames. The faunus accepts the fire with her free hand, palm open and fingers hooked to grab hold of it and send it back, her eyes flashing again. Manticore twists away, scrambling out of reach and cutting through Gypsy's blind spot. It seems to completely ignore her as it makes a frenzied attempt to reach Jaune, undaunted by the wall of bodies amassing between them.

Gypsy snaps around and manages to grab hold of the bare vertebra just below the barb on its tail, planting her feet and pulling with every ounce of strength she can muster. The Grimm is jerked to a sudden stop, flopping on its stomach but refusing to give up. Its claws tear deep furrows in the grass and soil as it tries to pull free, jaws snapping and bloody slaver foaming at the corners of its mouth. Gypsy barks with frustration, the furious glowing of her eyes pitching hot and bright as she recalls the fire to her hand, her palm burning white until the barb separates from the bone with a dry _CRACK_ . Unlike the first time its tail was broken, Manticore doesn't react though pain - _pain?!_ \- lances its brain like broken glass. Chunks of earth fly up into the air as it scrambles forward, diving into the crowd of faunus, trying to claw its way through them to reach the sole human. It doesn't get very far.

Jessica, Trixie and Alice surround Jaune and try to pull him away, disregarding his protests that they let him go. All three have their auras primed and ready should the Grimm get too close. Nessa catches Manticore mid-leap, shouldering the sharp burden of its claws in her skin as she cinches her thick arms around its waist. The Grimm reacts, arms working in an almost mechanical frenzy to shred through the woman's clothes and flesh, sinking its fangs into the meat at the base of her neck. The second it feels the pressure around it lessen, it scrambles over her, almost shoving Nessa to the ground. A split second later Billy has the Grimm by the tail and rips it down with one. _Solid. Jerk_.

As it's dragged across the ground, Manticore lashes out and snatches Billy by the ankle, lunging in to bite the top of their bare foot right down to the gums. They were most certainly _not_ prepared for that kind of pain and quickly stumble back, limbs flailing as they hit their backside. Once on its feet again the Grimm continues chasing down that awful golden aura -if it didn't snuff it out now it was going to go _mad_ . It slides between Nessa's knees, completely unaware of Gypsy closing in from behind and the two faunus almost colliding. It _is_ aware of Trixie trying to square herself in its intended path, looking to try and catch it like her sister had. With the quickness of a thought Manticore jumps, tucking and turning its body to spring off of Trixie's chest with both feet. Trixie hits the ground, breathless, and as the Grimm lands on its palms its tail comes down to smack Gypsy soundly on the top of her head.

Alice shoulders around her siblings, round features set as firm as possible. She's had it up to _here_ . She doesn't run, more so marches to meet the Grimm as it sprints towards her, pushing up the sleeves of her dress though they can't actually go much higher. Her tawny ears snap back as a corner of her mouth opens to show teeth and her aura swells. And keeps swelling and swelling and _swelling_.

It feels fear again, a massive shot of it starting cold in its gut and sparking outward through the rest of its body as Alice's shadow falls over it. Manticore skids to a stop, trying to turn around but unable to move fast enough, unable to get out of reach of the now _giant_ faunus. It makes a choking sound, a forced commingling of a hiss and a growl as Alice's massive hands wrap around it, lifting it like it's little more than nothing. The Grimm writhes in her grip, having almost no range of motion save for one arm and its neutered tail, the string of vertebrae snapping uselessly against her wrists. Still sporting that fierce grimace, Alice starts to squeeze.

The fear is growing, it almost can't think. _What is this?! What -_ _ **what is this**_ _?! You can't die, no,_ _ **I**_ _can't die!_ _ **I don't want to die**_ _?!_ It panics. It feels actual _panic_. It starts biting without even realizing what it's doing, but its teeth can't pierce Alice's skin. It can feel its ribs starting to compress, restricting its breathing, the compulsion suddenly its only comprehensible thought. _Breathe, stupid girl -_ _ **I'm trying**_ _-_ _breathe!_ _ **Keep me alive**_ _!_ Its lungs expand as far as they can, painfully tight until it exhales a flash of fire.

She knows her mother won't like it, but Alice can't stop herself from cursing out loud at the burning pain shooting up her arm. The great grand-daddy of all swear words shoots between her teeth as she unconsciously flings the Grimm towards the lake. Manticore bounces once, twice, rolls and then skips off a raised portion of the bank to splash into the shallows. Alice's incredible stature collapses back to what it should be, she could only hold it for so long.

It teeters on its feet, the water up to its scraped knees. Its wild hair sticks in a sopping mess around its neck. Water and thinning blood drip from its chin and over the snarled setting of its mouth, pulled downward by gravity while coils of diluted smoke form upward ringlets. Most of the blood on its face has been washed away, allowing a clear view of something human in only the most basic sense. Green and black eyes track the movement of the faunus and human on the shore, exchanging its pointed gaze to each of them as they close ranks and swiftly advance. Their collective auras bleed together and push hotly against it, making its host's skin feel too damn tight to stand. But the fear is subsiding, it feels that very clearly. It can sense the Old One at the bottom of the lake, its presence so much bigger than any emotion that might flicker through its own darkness. Manticore reaches out to its kin, feeling it stirring almost immediately.

Gypsy feels it the same way one senses disaster in the quicksilver seconds before it happens. A stone dropping in your stomach, your heart skipping a beat, both and neither make Gypsy shudder and freeze in her tracks, one arm outstretched to relay the notion to her daughters. They all stop in turn a mere yard or so from the bank, and they all look to her as if caught on the same wavelength of thought as their mother. Then they all snap back to watch the water, hearing massive clouds of bubbles breaking the surface.

 _I'm going to -_ _**stop it** _ _\- kill_ _**all** _ _of you._ Manticore is...delighted?

Manticore's eyes shimmer with a satisfied glint, something resembling a cracked smile trying to muscles its way into place. The bubbles are getting bigger, more frequent, and drawing closer to shore. Gypsy can feel the massive weight of whatever is coming up from the bottom, its presence pushing down on her aura like a cavern ceiling on aged support beams. It would be too big, she could feel it in her gut. Whatever it is would be much too big even for her. She swallows, intending to fight all the same.

"Get on back to the house." she says neutrally, tucking the shield closer to her.

"No way, we're not leaving you alone with this thing."

" _Mind me_ or the lot of you are _grounded_." Gypsy snaps back at her eldest.

"Guess we're all grounded then," Nessa snickers, Trixie doing the same.

"I'm not." Billy almost laughs. Almost.

"You will be by the time I-,"

"Mom!"

All eyes turn back to the Grimm treading water and the whitened geyser of surging water climbing behind it. Just as Manticore takes the first strides of its barreling advance, the Old One emerges, half of its great black body launching out of the column of bubbles it made. Manticore has every expectation for its ancient sibling to fall in line and join its fight. It can't imagine any other possibility -Grimm have no imagination. It's certain it has an ally with a bloodlust equal to its own. And it's correct. To a point.

The only thing greater than an Old One's desire to destroy -an instinct instilled the moment it comes to exist- is their desire to remain undisturbed. But Manticore remembers this much too late, and the shock and disgust on the Grimm-hybrid's face when it realizes it had not actually summoned an ally can't be hidden. It tries to run but just can't move fast enough, impeded by the water sloshing around its legs. An enormous black mass breaks through the wall of water and crashes down on the smaller Grimm, the two of them disappearing in the resulting torrent.

The line of faunus and the one human watch anxiously, waiting to see what happens. The water churns for several minutes, a single spurt of flame coupled with the come and go of a glistening and leathery tail that's as big as a train car. When the water stills they continue waiting, unconvinced that this mess could be over so suddenly. But as much as they are expecting the other shoe to drop, it never does. Now it's just too quiet, at least until the surface of the lake begins to ripple again.

The largest huckle the world has ever seen bobs to the surface, from stem to stern being as long as the Arc's home. It doesn't touch from one bank to the other, but comes pretty damn close. Smaller huckles are stuck to its hide where there are no bone plates, flopping and twitching in reaction to being outside of the water for the first time in who knows how long. Thick, whipping whiskers still and lift over its broad head, the ends dropping. Hemispherical eyes the size of wagon wheels glow aimlessly, and its doughy mouth is perpetually parted by its incredible underbite, exposing several conical teeth. It gurgles and burps, black and muddy bubbles spilling from its soppy jowls that produce coils of smoke when they pop.

Manticore hadn't counted on it having a memory. It didn't count on the Old One having been sleeping here forever, and that the few times it had ever surface it had gone unbothered by the family of faunus and humans that shared its territory. And it certainly hadn't counted on the children feeding it breadcrumbs and table scraps as it just drifted in the water, or putting flower crowns on its head as it sunbathed on the banks. It liked it here, and it _didn't_ like being roused by intruders rude enough to endanger its pets.

One by one the Arcs take in the sight of the Old One and start to laugh. Little puffs of air that eventually transform into full on cackles. Billy doesn't partake, more concerned that the lot of them have lost their minds. And Jaune, he doesn't laugh either. A strange numbness is coming over him though it does nothing to salve the pain in his face or slow his heart. He barely acknowledges it when his mother comes to stand in front of him, looking him over and asking if he's okay. He just looks back at her, his gaze more so going through her.

Jaune has no real idea what he has just seen, or why the thought of the Grimm-hybrid suddenly filled him with a morbid fascination instead of fear. Now that he had seen its face, seen that it resembled something human...it's like the world is now upside down. He feels the distinct heaviness of blood rushing into his head, topples to his knees, and then faints. All the laughter stops.

 

It would be hours later, long after sunset, when Manticore drags itself out of the lake covered in slime and huckle marks. The giant huckle resurfaces with all the hurry of cold molasses on an incline, dozens if not hundreds of its little ones gathering around it -countless eyes glowing in the dark water like stars. They all watch as the Grimm-hybrid gags and heaves, on its hands and knees until all the water comes up. But it keeps pushing, forcing the air out of its lungs with sputtering sparks until it can exhale fire again. Then Manticore whips around and starts making these gods-awful noises, obviously furious and obviously new to the concept of anger management. The Grimm is so angry its thoughts can't form the human words it hates so much.

All the huckles fix their walleyed gazes on their kin with a haunting sort of focus, and _at the same time_ , as if it wasn't unsettling enough already. Then they all started blowing bubbles, little ones, while the largest groaned under the water. The Old One's thoughts pulsed across the water, forming ripples and rolling over Manticore, much to its surprise.

**Fuck off.**

That shut it up real quick. For a second anyway. When Manticore starts thrashing, gnashing its teeth, the giant fish Grimm rumbles in response.

**Come back when you're out of that foul-tasting meatsuit and we'll settle this properly.**

_Meatsuit-meatsuit-meatsuit_ the little ones echo mentally, mockingly like cawing crows. _Meeeeeeeatsuuuuuuuit_

Manticore charges the bank, stopping just short of the water as a flash of fire jumps out of its throat.

Another bubbly groan, its thick whiskers slapping the water. **Scram. Numb-nuts.**

 _Numb-nuts. Numb-nuts. Numb-nuts._ The littler ones begin chanting, their whiskers twitching like little antennae.

Manticore doesn't even know what the words mean, it doesn't understand, but it's certain it doesn't like the intent that piggybacks over the link between them. And that just winds it up that much tighter. It charges the water a second time, snapping its jaws against the posturing flames when the giant huckle lurches towards it with a punctuated gurgle, mud foaming around his mouth. Manticore retreats with a hiss, its tail tucking. It pauses long enough to offer up one last caustic glare -which the huckles don't seem to give one shit about- before darting off into the trees.

It needs a new den, it needs to be as far away from that Witch and her spawn as possible. It needs to find Grimm it can consume to repair itself, and it needs to find a way to stop the girl from continuing that awful chant in the back of its head, her intent gnawing on its brain. _**Numb-nuts** _.

 

_(II)_

Weiss hunches at what had once been her father's desk in what had once been her father's office, neither of which she feels have become properly her own yet. Every other minute she considers gutting the room and remodeling it entirely, a skylight alone would do wonders for the atmosphere. But, for the moment, she's satisfied with having moved out all the old portraits -all of which were of her father at varying stages in his life- and storing them in the attic, followed up by a good dusting and a collection of pine and cinnamon air fresheners. She worries a corner of her lip between her teeth as she pushed a pen across a semi-blank page, adding another series of long-hand equations to the others since she could never manage to do complex math otherwise. Frankly, she'd much rather smack her forehead on this fine hardwood desk and let the math suss _itself_ out than jot down so much as another digit.

After rubbing her eyes she returns her attention to the financial reports plastered across the monitor in front of her. They never seem to end. She pulls her hands down her face, stilling for a moment and not caring that the designer bags under her eyes are probably on her cheekbones, the scar on her eye distorted as well. Weiss has been trying to take more work here at home for the last few days. Not just to keep from having to go to that stuffy office to be with those stuffier old men, but so that she can be here for Yang as well. She had promised, after all.

She still didn't know what to make of the events that she came home to earlier this week -that is her kitchen in shambles, the massive dining table in the adjacent room toppled on its side with one of the hardwood edges caved in, and scorched footprints all up the stairs and across the floor -alongside the blood- in the main entry hall. Mind you, she understood plainly the explanation given to her by Ruby, Blake and Tag, but she was having trouble wrapping her head completely around it. Qrow had been and still is either unwilling or unable to comment. Although the state of his face had been enough.

At this rate it didn't much matter what she made of them, that isn't the important part. What's important is that Yang had finally been convinced to seek counseling and Weiss had promised to do everything she could to help, including working from home to make herself as available to her teammate as possible, regardless of the reason. She wishes she could do more, yet every reflexive thought comes to some sort of knee-jerk desire to shower Yang with material things and just...be available. Only one of those seem productive, both of them she's tried, but neither of them feel satisfactory to the perfectionist heiress. Maybe...maybe they could talk about it later.

The collective frustration mounts briefly, making her seriously consider putting a hand through the monitor, but stops herself when there's a solid knock at the door. She takes a second to compose herself, standing up and smoothing the creases from her clothes before allowing whoever it is to come in.

"Hey,"

"Ruby, please, come in." Weiss smiles, feeling the closer proximity of her Guardian vibrate warmly through her.

She pokes her head through the narrow opening of the door, the rest of her body steadily following. "Are you busy? Because I can go and let you-"

"Hardly." She offers up a dismissive swat of her hand. "I need a break anyway." and she exhales, seemingly more comfortable now than she had been moments ago. "How was the session?"

"Good, I guess, I don't know a whole lot about this stuff." Ruby's hands swing aimlessly at her sides as she crosses the room in arrhythmic steps. "But...Yang did a lot of talking, which is good."

"It is." Weiss nods, not taking her seat again until Ruby has rounded to her side of the desk. The heiress closes the tabs on the monitor, not risking it dividing her attention. Upon closer inspection she can see a certain redness to Ruby's eyes, the silver of them a little duller. "Have you been crying?"

"Only a little." Ruby wipes at her eyes reflexively, her sleeve already damp. "It's just..."

Weiss feels a frown attempting to surface as she watches Ruby struggle for the words.

"She tells me she doesn't blame me, but it's just hard to believe, you know? I mean...she took care of me and...did I ever really try to give back? Did I take her for granted?"

"Ruby,"

"She said she doesn't resent me, but resents the situation. I don't see the difference." her breath hitches and it sounds like she just might start crying again. "I never meant to hurt her like this, Weiss."

"And I'm sure Yang knows that. I'll admit...in one way or another," Weiss' hands fuss in her lap, "we're all guilty. As much as it may be uncomfortable to hear, we need to hear it all the same. But, by the same token, if she doesn't blame you, you need to believe her. She's making an effort to help us all get back to that place we were before, back to where we trusted each other -she's showing us the way and we need to do our part."

"I know. I just...I wish there was more that I could do. I just...I always used to hug her when she was angry or sad. I can't do that now and I don't know what else to do. She says it _hurts_ her." tears are welling up and Weiss can see them.

"I had worried about that for some time." Weiss nods, trying not to choke up herself. "Is she seeking treatment for that too?"

"Yeah, it's part of her rehab now, so,"

"Good."

Ruby's quiet for a moment, her arms still swinging at her sides, still unfocused. Eventually she moves closer to the desk, bouncing on the balls of her feet until she can sit on the edge of it. She looks worn out, broken up, held together by ABC gum and a prayer. In a strange way it makes her look strong too. Strong for an almost seventeen year old who's seen too much too soon.

Weiss stares without really meaning to, adoring her. _My Guardian is one of the finest hunters in the world._ But it doesn't feel as much like her own thoughts as it does a Maiden's, and she chases it out of her mind. She wasn't going to let her compulsion turn Ruby into...into an _asset_ , something to be cataloged and tucked away like a trump card. Already she just loves her too much for that.

Weiss blinks her mind clear and leans forward in her seat, reaching out to smooth one hand over Ruby's as it cups the edge of the desk. She waits, smiling until Ruby reciprocates, feeling some of the weight in the air lifting.

"Where's Yang now?"

"She went to the gym after we got back, Tag's sparing with her I think."

"Oh good, help her work off some steam I hope. Pardon the pun."

Ruby nods, laughing a little. She really is starting to feel a little better, not much, but it's noticeable. "She wanted me to tell you she wants you to come to her next session."

"All right." Weiss nods immediately. "What time?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I think. I can go ask her,"

As Ruby tries to slide off the desk, Weiss' grip tightens. "N-no, it's not necessary right now, is it? I mean...don't want to interrupt her, do you?"

"Oh, well, no, I guess not." Ruby takes a breath after a moment of thought. "I just...I don't know what to do with my hands." It's the best way she knows how to describe it. Because saying she feels idle isn't enough, and saying she feels helpless is too much though it's true. She wants Yang to feel better, she wants to do everything she can to make this better, but....

The ranting thought breaks up as she feels Weiss' other hand slip into hers, both of them squeezing. There's a cool brush of magic between them, stimulating and soothing at the same time. It doesn't make it better, but it makes it a little easier, something Ruby accepts as best she can. Her smile grows just a bit, but then it kinks up again as her brow knits, mildly confused. Weiss' face has reddened considerably.

"I...I-I could give your hands...s-something to do." poor girl tries so hard. "...What? Why are you smiling like that? Was that wrong?"

"No." Ruby laughs, realizing what her partner is up to. "Just...it's kind of obvious you're not used to... _us_ yet."

"Well what do you expect? You're my first lo...." like the flame of a candle, the word is disturbed and snuffed out.

Ruby's expression brightens, a certain argent cobalt flicker in her irises, expectant. "...Say it." _Say it because I would_ really _like to hear it right now._

A lump forms in Weiss' throat and she fights to swallow it fast enough. Her mouth works, and at first the words just won't happen. Thankfully Ruby is patient, knowing she's trying.

"I...I-I love you, Ruby." the blush deepens, though she appears to be much more relaxed once the words come out. "I do."

Ruby smiles wide enough to show teeth, her cheeks lifting with a gentle flush. "I love you too." Then she takes a chance, her mind blank so her Maiden wouldn't know too soon, and kisses her.

By now it isn't such a shocking thing to do, it's easy to relax into and enjoy, which Weiss does with minimal delay. Her hands move to lace her and Ruby's fingers together, a little ripple buzzing in her skin as her mind maps out the callouses on Ruby's palms. Briefly she thinks about the scythe her Guardian wields, mentally swooning at the sheer power she knows the younger girl possesses. With a quiet sigh she opens her mouth a little, hoping Ruby will catch on.

 _Is this okay?_ Comes a meek thought.

_It is. Please,_

Ruby tilts her head, leaning closer, the press of their lips tightening as she puts Weiss' hands to the arms of the chair and holds them in place. She can almost feel Weiss' blossoming excitement at the gesture, feels it match her own when her Maiden pries her hands loose to loop her arms around her waist.

 _You're too tall._ a little huff.

 _You're not tall enough._ Ruby smirks against her lips.

 _Come here_.

Weiss barely fits in her father's old chair, so there's ample room for Ruby to kneel on the worn leather cushion with a knee on either side of her and settle in the heiress' lap. For a moment they're both still, both shocked at themselves, both blushing madly. Both still smiling.

_Still okay?_

_Still okay._

Weiss' hands interlock in the small of Ruby's back, partly supporting her. She can feel the redness in her face growing as Ruby's hands smooth over and cup her cheeks, holding her in place. Her heart is fluttering a mile a minute and the pace of her kisses begins to reflect her heightened pulse.

 _I love you._ Though this time, Ruby's declaration sounds a lot less innocent. It's heated, smooth, tempting. _I love you, Weiss._

The Maiden's mind sputters. _L-love you_ ,

The hinges on the office door whine and Weiss feels herself flash freeze before she reacts. Her body snaps into a perfectly rigid, upright posture, unfazed as her Guardian slips down her front and thumps to the floor with a grunt.

"Pardon my intrusion, sister, but-" she stalls mid sentence, _certain_ she saw something that suddenly is no longer there, heard something that's now quiet. "the door was open."

"W-Winter," Weiss is praying and praying that her face isn't as red as she thinks it is. "How...you're in uniform again?"

"I am." the elder Schnee nods once as she steps inside, hands habitually settled behind her back. Her chin has the slightest, confident lift to it and she stands squarely like a perfectly preened bird. "I was approved for reserve duty this morning, so Specialist Holiday and I are on our way to headquarters to discuss our new assignment with General Ironwood."

"Oh. I...I'm glad, Winter, really. It's nice to see you go back to work."

"No need to fib to make me feel better, Weiss. I know you enjoyed having me home all the time. Not to say I didn't enjoy it myself," a little smirk.

"True enough, but I know you love your job."

"Indeed. Still, I thought I should let you know before I left. Also, the General has expressed interest in a meeting with the both of us within the next few days if it's permissible, and -I hope you won't think me presumptuous- but I've taken the liberty of extending him an invitation to our Solstice gathering."

Weiss smiles, offering a quiet sigh. "Winter, this is your house too, you don't have to get the go-ahead with me about everything."

"On the contrary, father's will left all of this to you."

"A technicality." a little laugh. "But I appreciate the consideration. You can tell the general that he is welcome to attend, and that I'll review my schedule so we can arrange a meeting. If all else fails I suppose talking a little business over the holiday won't kill me."

"I'll be sure to relay the message." Winter dips her chin, turning in place with the intent to leave.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

She pauses, appearing visibly surprised at the question. "I...I'm not sure."

"Should I have something made for you just in case?"

"I..." she smiles, "I would appreciate it. Thank you."

"And be sure to invite Specialist Holiday, too, don't want her to feel left out." Weiss' own smile kinks a little, her eyes thinning with inspection as she eyes Winter from across the room. There's something below her- "Oh, and Winter?"

"Yes?"

"You _might_ want to adjust your collar," Weiss points, "or tell Daisy to be more...discreet."

The sound her older sister makes is a fumbling mixture of a hiccup and a gasp, one gloved hand quickly moving to her neck as her face stretches and her cheeks blush brightly. Weiss rocks gently on the balls of her feet with a comfortable grin. "I won't tell if you don't."

Winter clears her throat, shifting. "Th-thank you. I'll...thank you." Then she stops, a thought knitting her brow. " _Who_ are we not telling?"

Weiss opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Good question. Then she tucks her chin and giggles, as does Winter in a way only girls that are in on a secret can.

"If I am to come home tonight, I'll try to do so at a decent hour." Winter finishes, one last chuckle bubbling out of her.

"All right. Don't work too hard."

"So long as you promise to do the same, little sister."

It's bittersweet to watch Winter leave, but Weiss lets out a relieved shrug all the same. In the next instant her face scrunches as her eyes cut downward, though her gaze softens when she sees Ruby grinning up at her like a fool. Even more so when Ruby hugs her legs and nuzzles her stomach. Though she insists "I'm not kissing you on the floor. If you want more you're going to have to ge-"

Ruby had never stood up so fast in her whole life.

 

_(--)_

Blake was aware of the very second Yang returned to the manor. It feels like the first shot of exceptionally powerful alcohol, a blossoming and sharp heat in her guts that's almost big enough to burn her throat. It tears her away from being all four ears deep in a book, her head snapping up and the black slits of her eyes flexing though the light she reads under hasn't changed. Her first instinct is to get up, seek her out, but she stops herself. A cursory pulse of aura pinpoints Yang's location in the house and comes back with a little spark that the magic translates. _Not now_ it says. _Not now._ Blake accepts it -accepts it like she has been for the last few day- and tries to settle back into her book, something she achieves with little notice. At the back of her mind she can still feel the steadily radiating heat.

Perhaps an hour later Blake unconsciously tries again, a ripple of magic working through the house, and this time it's accepted but with no discernible response. Like an unanswered text. Their warmth blends together in the aether and blurs, masking any intent from either end that might have been. She can't resist it any longer and sets down her book, leaving her room and making her way downstairs. If Yang still doesn't want her around just yet, then she can say it to her face. She reaches the bottom of the main staircase and moves to the passage behind them, her hand lingering on the banister as she moves around the landing. As she moves passed the den she feels the dull warmth become more evident, feeling closer. She reaches out again but still receives nothing in return.

The heavy wooden double doors of the gym are propped open, the sounds from inside compelling Blake to linger for a moment and have a look inside. An echoing _WHUMP_ makes her jump as she peers around the doorway just in time to see Tag swung to a thick vinyl mat arranged in the middle of the polished wood floor, one arm stretched out to break up the impact. Nora stands over her, hands over her mouth and frantically asking if the older faunus is all right. Tag just laughs and rolls onto her knees before standing, nodding all the while. Ren is watching and also nods with approval when Nora looks at him. They don't even realize Blake is watching. The Summer Maiden decides to leave them to their business, seeing no sign of Yang anyhow.

Her thoughts fragment around the idea of this being the strangest game of hot-and-cold, the notion disappearing entirely as she rounds the corner and finds the heat is strongest here. The door at the end of the short hallway is discreetly marked with a small plastic placard -likely the cheapest thing in the entire manor- that says _Pool_ and _Sauna_ respectively. Quietly as a ghost, ears folded back, she opens the door and lets herself inside.

The rest of the massive room and its watery echoes are irrelevant as Blake zeroes in on the mess of golden hair near the edge of the pool. At a glance it looks like Yang is asleep. Her back is to the door, giving Blake only a partial view of her muscular shoulders. She can't see her Maiden mark, partly glad because she isn't sure she could stand the sight of it right now as she still didn't know how to remove it. Yang's hair is gathered up in a loose and haphazard bun, her arms are spread on either side along the edge of the hot tub to likely keep her from slipping all the way in. The rubber cap covered the recess of her stump and her prosthetic sits on a folded towel nearby. Blake waits, watches, expecting some sort of reaction to her presence. Maybe the sound of the whirlpool jets masked the little noises of her entry.

Just as quietly as when she entered she crosses the coarse tiles on the floor, almost tiptoeing. She reaches the edge, felid ears tilting towards the rumble of swirling water, and leans over with her hands behind her back. She finds Yang's eyes are indeed closed, her chin touching her chest which rises and falls in a steady, noticeable rhythm. There's redness around her neck and meaty biceps, the remnants of bruises if she remembers correctly. Had she been sparring?

With a calming shrug Blake steps out of her house slippers and sits down, rolling up the loose legs of her pajama pants before ever so carefully dipping her feet in the hot water. She shivers with goosebumps, ears fluttering, loving the feel of countless bubbles brushing over her. And for a good long while, she just sits, her eyes occasionally moving from the blurred outlines of her feet beneath the water to her partner. Sometimes she focuses on the skin tight band of lycra across Yang's ample breasts, almost immediately berating herself afterwards.

 _My Guardian._ She swallows. _No, it's not right. I never asked. It's not fa-_

Yang snorts loudly, her head suddenly tipping back, the weight of it cushioned by her hair. Her abbreviated limb jerks upward, like she might be reaching for something or trying to smack someone in her sleep. It drops heavily back to the tile, the impact perhaps rousing enough sensation to make Yang's body jump. Her eyelids flutter then, batting away the sleep as her head lifts and she looks around. "Oh...hey." she slurs, her bleary eyes on Blake.

"Hey. Did I wake you?"

"No, you're fine...and it wasn't your fault." a drunk-like smirk turns the corner of Yang's mouth. "Had a weird dream...I was an actress named Barbara and people kept yelling at me for drawing dicks in inappropriate places."

For a moment Blake just stares. _The hell kind of name is Barbara?_ "Is it...do you mind if I stay? I can go if-,"

"It's all right." Yang assures her, stretching. "I know I was kind of shutting you out earlier, it wasn't anything personal, just wasn't," she pauses, thinking of the right words, "guess I just wasn't ready for that kind of attention yet. Had to decompress from being with the shrink first."

Blake nods, trying to stare at the water and not Yang's abs as they peeked above the waterline. "How did it go?"

"Pretty good I guess." Yang's brow furrows as she stares across the room. "Just weird. Talking about my problems just...you know?"

"I know." because she and her partner can withhold like it's going out of style. "So...are you feeling any better?"

"Maybe. Still trying to adjust. Everybody's being so...clingy. Damn near suffocating."

"I'm sorry."

Yang tilts her head, looking up at Blake. "I'm just not used to it, no need to apologize. Like I said, it's just weird. Weiss got me this box full of stuff -self help and anger management books, aromatherapy shit. There's a stress ball shaped like a whale, has a little waterspout that pops up when you squeeze it."

"What?" Blake almost laughs.

"That's what _I_ said. Apparently whales were good luck back in the old days when Atlas was Mantle. Still, it's cute, I guess...I named him Fatty." Yang chuckles, seemingly to herself. "I see what Weiss is trying to do, it's how she shows she cares. It's just...I'm just not used to it."

"I'd like to think we're all doing our best...at least doing better."

"I can tell all of you are trying, and I appreciate it. Really. But," Yang takes a breath, her eyes closing like she's about to say something nasty but has no other way to put it. "Part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm waiting for everything to go back to the way it was."

"That's fair." Blake responds almost absently. She knew all about that feeling from all the times Adam said next time would be different. And for a while they were. But _a while_ was never long enough. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Yang stretches again, shifting and crossing her legs under the water.

"Does...does it really hurt when people touch you?"

Yang almost frowns, dipping her chin again. "Kind of. It's like...it's like one of those joke hand-buzzers. It's especially hard if I don't see it coming."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I don't know." she replies simply. "I thought it was just...you know...a _thing_ . Maybe losing my arm had messed me up in more ways than I thought. That and I didn't think there was a way to fix it. I'd never heard of it before. The shrink called it touch sensitivity," Yang laughs at herself, "I mean, how do you say that and _not_ sound like a little bitch?"

"You're not a little bitch. This is serious."

"I know." Yang relents, sounding as if it took some effort. Like it's an inconvenient truth. "You sound like my dad."

"I'll take that as a complement."

"And you should. Though, that reminds me, I want to talk to him. Got some air to clear with him over this too."

They're quiet for a moment, Blake trying to imagine what's going on in Yang's head without using her magic to spy on her thoughts, and Yang trying to think of nothing.

"I've got another question."

"Okay."

"...This is going to sound stupid." Blake shakes her head, her ears back with visible embarrassment. "Do you... _gods_ ,"

"Out with it."

Finally she just bites her lips and then forces it out. "Do you get a rise out of pain?"

Yang looks at her, wide eyed with a series of quick blinks. Then she laughs, though it doesn't sound like it's because Blake is wrong or that her assumption is too far out of left field. It's the sound you make when you hear something you've always unconsciously understood put into words for the first time -and even _you_ realize how ridiculous it sounds. "Are you asking if I like it?" and when Blake doesn't answer, doesn't even look at her, she just nods. "Look,"

Blake mentally braces herself.

"After I got back home...I was okay for a little while. As okay as I could be, I guess. But then, a few weeks later I kind of...drifted away. I just shut down. All the lights were on but no one was home. And, according to dad, this lasted for the better part of three months. As far as he's told me I didn't say a word to anyone, didn't leave the house, ate once a day and showered only when he reminded me to or when Zwei tried to drag me to the bathroom. Three months of just being...numb. The scary part is that I kind of remember it.

"And when I came out of it, that's when the drinking and the smoking started. The smoking kept my hand busy and the drinking helped keep the mess I turned into from feeling too big. Somewhere in the middle of all that something in my head clicked and I turned into an obnoxious, attention-starved asshole."

"You're not an-,"

"I beg to differ. I know I've said some really nasty things to you guys and I'm so _sorry_ . As for the pain...most of the time pain hurts, and I don't like it. But sometimes, when I can handle it, yeah. I don't _like it_ , but I don't hate it...because after I came out of that fog, I found that was the only thing that hadn't really changed. Pain is a part of me, it's the foundation of my semblance for gods' sake. It's just...it was _mine_ ." It was hers -all _hers_ \- and no one could take it away. It didn't matter who came and went from her life or how many more pounds of flesh she had to give up for them, the pain would always be _hers_. "It was a tether I guess, it kept me grounded and kept me from drifting off again. So I ran with it."

In truth, Blake doesn't want to hear this. She doesn't want to feel the connection of barbwire between her and Yang's pain rubbing her raw, but she stomachs it all the same. She's part of the equation and she needs to accept all of what that entails.

"You're asking because of what you heard in my head."

Blake's back straightens, ears up.

"You did hear it, didn't you? Or did I imagine it?"

"N-no, you didn't." Blake swallows, eyes moving from place to place as she thinks. "I can take the mark away if you want. I don't know how yet, but Tag can teach me."

"Did I say I didn't want it?" Yang looks at her, one brow lifted and amused interest turning up the corner of her lips. Her big shoulders bounce with a quiet chuckle and she shifts to sink up to her neck into the water. The warm water feels good on her tired muscles, on the sore ones too -she never expected Tag to hit like a truck. Yang takes a breath. "I want you to do something for me."

"Okay." no hesitation. It didn't matter what she was agreeing to. It was for Yang so it was worth it.

"I want to keep it, I like this close feeling we have. That and...I know that if I lost my head like that again you could stop me if you really wanted to. I...I want to be able to trust you again and this is the best way I think I can get there, though it's a long way to go. I'll keep your mark, I'll keep my mind open to you unless I've got a good reason to keep it shut. But you have to meet me half way and promise to do the same."

Blake doesn't speak, her mind a little blank, so she just stares, hoping Yang understands that she's still listening.

"No more secrets, no more omissions. Total transparency between us." Yang nods through the words, perhaps searching for and finding the conviction to say them. The shrink had said to own her feelings and learn to express them in a healthy, constructive manner. Making requests that her loved ones meet needs she can't manage on her own was natural and she had a right to do what was needed to maintain her mental and emotional balance. Although applying it is something she just isn't accustomed to yet. Asking for help and receiving it, what a concept.

"If that's too much to ask, I get it." the brawler adds like an afterthought. "It's cool. But if you agree to this, I'm going to expect you to follow through." _Because I won't be able to handle it if you pull the rug out from under me again. It'll kill me._

Yang's thought rattles across their link as the shivering, timid tones of a glass wind chime, and Blake's heart clenches hard enough to make her eyes burn.

_Because I'm in love with you. I think I've loved you almost from the second I saw you and I don't want you to walk out of my life again. I know how selfish that sounds, but it's still the truth._

"And I'm not saying you have to love me back, not like that, or that you _have_ to stay, you know...just don't...don't _not_ talk to me. Okay? Can you promise me that much at least?"

Saying yes would go against every safety mechanism Blake had in place, it would rub every self-preserving instinct the wrong way. It would get her attached, make her responsible for someone else's feelings, and leave herself vulnerable. But that's how trust works and she knows that. Trust is baring your throat to a hungry wolf and expecting it not to bite. Or, more appropriately, giving the keys to your personal vault to a homeless dragon, expecting it to share and not shut you out in the cold.

Her compulsion is telling her to say yes. It's quietly coercing her to take an ally because it knows how much raw power Yang has, how much raw potential she could tap into.

And saying no, how bad would that be? Awful, Blake thinks. Because those other pains she had faced before. She had presented her neck willingly to a predator and been bitten, mauled even, and walked away. She had opened her heart to a vicious beast and come out alive. But this, saying no to her...being flayed alive might have been the preferable option.

"You can take some time to think about it if you want." Yang says, breaking a solid several minutes of silence. "No rush."

"No, I want you to get better, and I want to help. If you need me, I'm here." Blake says it all before she even realizes her mouth is moving, before the thought is even complete in her head. "I promise. I might...I'll warn you now I'll probably mess up...but I won't quit."

"I'll accept that." After a moment Yang looks at her again and just smiles. But the expression scrunches into something else as Blake shifts in place. "What's the matter?"

Blake's posture is tight, hunched and seemingly embarrassed. "I want to touch you." _It's how_ I _show I care._ "Will...does touch sensitivity ever get better?"

"The shrink says it can, but it's too soon to know. She's teaching me this thing called anchoring, it's supposed to retrain my brain and remind it that touch is supposed to feel good."

"How does it work? Can I help?" the faunus loosens a little.

"Not much you can do for me, though I appreciate the thought. But whenever I'm having a good day, or it's just a moment when I'm really relaxed and in a good state of mind, I have to squeeze my thumb. I'm doing it right now, actually. After a while I should be able to squeeze my thumb any time and it'll tell my brain to chill the fuck out so maybe I can stand to have hands on me again. If that doesn't work...we'll try something else."

"Oh."

"But you can touch me. I'll stomach it for you."

Blake shakes her head. "I don't want to hurt you."

Yang waits until Blake meets her eyes. "I'm asking, I want you to."

"...Okay." it comes out tightly, meek. "H-how,"

"I think I'd really love it if you scratched my scalp. Summer used to do it when I was sick. Just take it easy."

The first pass scatters a pins and needles sensation through her skin, making Yang's face tighten, to which she squeezes her thumb a little harder. The second pass of Blake's blunt claws is a little easier, the third a little easier still. After a minute or so the feeling of Blake's fingers through her hair are more like a dull buzz, blending in with the vibration of the bubbles skittering across the rest of her body. It isn't good, but it's better. Yang relaxes as best she can and tries to enjoy it.

_Thank you._

"Hmm?" Yang's brow knits.

_For giving me a second chance._

A little, lazy laugh. "I can't say no to you. Besides, we all deserve at least one, right?"

She wanted to believe that. Gods above did she want to believe.

 

 

Author's Note:  Had a reader ask for some WhiteRose, so I tried to put a little something in here for you, hope you like it. I have a long weekend coming up, so I might fall a little behind because of work. Next chapter, Jaune and his mom talk about the mess he's in with a little Witch lore thrown in. Soon, very soon, we'll be back on plot and more shit is going to hit the fan. Thanks to Strayphoenix for the giant huckle idea, the huckles in general. I'll have some artwork as well as the name reveal for the Old one soon -here's hoping- and you can also thank her for Fatty the feelings whale stress ball. We spout too much shit for sober people.

 


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gypsy Arc is a number of things, but _liar_ is a title she'll cut someone over. However if she were to say she wasn't terrified, she would most certainly earn it. She hasn't been this afraid for her children since Alice got pneumonia when she was ten -to this day she's convinced her daughter should have died from it. But now she's faced with something she has never seen before, something equally deadly but likely ten times more dangerous due to the simple fact that she had no idea what to do. She could keep the kids on the farm all she wanted, ground them until they were as gray as she is becoming, but Gypsy wouldn't live forever and she couldn't turn their loving home into a prison. Never mind how much she wanted to keep them safe.

She doesn't know what to do, so she sits, thinks, and does her jigsaw puzzles at the dinning table after everyone has gone off to bed.

Her mind busily spins around the question for hours - _what to do, what to do_ \- and she makes no progress trying to divide her attention between that and the pile of puzzle pieces next to her hand. This has been going on just like this for the last two days. The only time her mind is rid of it is when she sleeps, but as is true with most women, even then it isn't fully gone. She just can't help herself, not with her family in danger.

Being so deep in thought and focus doesn't stop her ears for turning towards any sounds outside of her own occasional shrug and the light snapping of puzzle pieces being put in their places. Bedroom doors opening and closing, a flushing toilet every other hour or so coupled with shuffling feet, distant snoring -even the house still creaks from time to time as the air grows colder. Around midnight Yumi comes out of her room, her blanket dragging behind her with her usual stuffed animal tucked under the other arm as she makes her way to the sofa and curls up on it. She does it whenever there's stress in the house, when there's fear in the family. For a moment Gypsy watches her youngest, thinking back to when she was but an infant in her crib -the crib that had once been Jaune's, been Bev's, been Alice's and so on- and all that serves to do is make her heart clench and remind her how tired she is and how lost she feels. Gypsy rises from the dining table and wanders into the living room, then into the corridor to look in on all her other girls, and eventually makes it back to her puzzle.

A mother should always know how to protect her family. That's what everyone tells you. Fat lot that does her now.

She adjusts her glasses and places another piece, finds it isn't the right one and tosses is back into the pile with a frustrated flick of her wrist. She'll get up again, make herself some coffee and get back to it. Now her ears are folded back as her thoughts continue to scatter around that awful question, still finding nothing resembling an answer. Now it's almost one-thirty in the morning.

"Momma?"

She moves as if surprised, lapin ears pricked and back suddenly straightening. "Jaune, what are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." he shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck and adjusting his flannel pajama bottoms with the other. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, honey, just mother things."

"Can I sit with you?"

"Of course, silly boy." and she scoots over, making a seat for him. "Maybe you can help me put this damn thing together properly."

For a spell they sit together, quiet, leaning on each other as they fish through pieces with their fingers, trying several of them. Gypsy tries not to look him in the face, knowing if she does she'll just stare at the remains of those horrible claw marks around his eyes. It had been a couple of days since the incident at the lake and they had yet to fully disappear. She thought his aura would have done away with them by now, but then she remembers he's a little slow on the upchuck in that department and understands. Still, even if there was no trace of them, they were burned into her memory. Seared to her thoughts after having spent hours holding him after he had fainted with his head in her lap on the sofa, anxious for him to wake and trying not to cry her eyes out because she was so damn scared he was going to die. In a way she was still afraid, expecting that monster had done something to him that just hadn't manifested yet. Like a blood clot waiting to nestle in the brain and stroke out.

Jaune tucks under her arm and curls his around her waist, her cheek propping against the top of his head. She kisses him there before placing another puzzle piece, this one being the right one. She feels his body expend and contract around her, a heavy sigh cutting the dull silence and drawing the attention of one ear that leans down towards him.

"You know we can't stay much longer."

"I know." she replies neutrally, though her heart clenches behind her ribs. "And  _you_ know I said I want you here for the Solstice."

"Momma,"

"This isn't a discussion, Jaune." she puts down another piece, and while it's neither right nor wrong, she puts it down where she knows it will eventually belong. "I've already spoken with the folks in town and at Watership station, they know we won't be attending this year for safety reasons. You're staying to spend the holiday with your family and that's final."

Jaune shrugs again.

"I know the minute you leave my sight that thing is going to be on you like a bad memory, and I know you  _have_ to go, but you can let your mother have at least a few more days."

Jaune is quiet, wordless, accepting. At least for a minute as he searches for the home of the piece in his hand.

"What makes you think it's going to chase me? Billy said they haven't felt it around here since the attack."

"That don't mean anything." Gypsy shakes her head. "It could've gone dormant after the right ass-whipping you kids gave it." and in her heart she is  _so proud_ of all of them. They had fought back and protected each other in a way she always knew they would. "You never feel Mudbutt when he's sleeping, do you?"

"Well, no." Jaune laughs a little, thinking of the giant huckle that lived in the lake, having almost forgotten he had a name. "I was kind of surprised it did what it did."

"You and me both." Gypsy chuckles softly. "In any case, that thing could still be around. No way something that mean died that easy. Besides, I think it had its eye on you specifically."

"Oh?"

His mother nods. "Too many things just didn't add up to me. Mind you I'm no huntress, but there are certain things it should've done but didn't. And it was behaving too damn smart. You understand?"

"No."

"Well, think about it," she straightens, unconsciously expecting him to release his grip on her which he does. "By all rights, it should've gone after your dad and sisters first, they were the most vulnerable. Or even Nessa since she broke away from you to come fetch me. But it hung back and scrapped with  _you_ , the only one of the lot with a weapon. Even after I got there, it did everything it could to get away from me and your sisters and get at  _you_ . And I remember what you said about it possibly being human. Having seen it fight now, I actually believe you. And that's just the start of it." There are worse things that course through her mind thinking about the strange Grimm that had tried to hurt her son, things she can only barely comprehend. Things that make her stomach turn.

"What else?"

"Impossible things."

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ Jaune just looks at her, face kinked in confusion. "Is...is that some sort of cryptic Witch thing?"

Gypsy laughs. "Close, actually. And cryptic is putting it lightly."

His brow furrows. "How come you never told me my sisters could do those things? I know that's a little off topic, but,"

"Not far off, really." her head lilts in slight consensus. "But it was for their safety, son. The survival of Witches demands a lot of care and secrecy. It's not that we didn't trust you, just that...it's how we've lived for...eons, and we like it that way. But, like I've said before, I would've told you everything on your eighteenth birthday, you just weren't around for that."

"Fair enough." he sighs quietly, effectively dropping the matter. "So what else are you thinking?"

"...I don't really know."

"Might as well tell me." because sometimes he knows when his mother is genuinely clueless and when she's just holding back. Just one of those secret skills kids have over their parents that they rarely catch on to. "Even if it's more Witch stuff."

She gives him a sideways glance, eyes thin as she peers over her glasses. "Cheeky boy."

Jaune grins. "That's why I'm your favorite."

Gypsy buzzes her lips and laughs, shaking her head before going quiet. Then she continues, albeit hesitantly. "Witches can sense another's magic on objects and people, especially if they're related. It's hard to describe. Still, I got close enough to that Grimm...I felt something I shouldn't have."

"What do you mean?"

"My sister."

Jaune thinks a moment. "Not Aunt Glynda," In Queen's Hollow, an antique inkwell shatters, its contents spilling across the currently unoccupied desk in the heart of the house for Glynda to find and rage over in the morning.

"...Afraid not."

"So...Aunt Salem?"

Gypsy tenses as her sister's name rolls through her senses, her ears tilting back an inch or two. Beyond the mirror, in the sanctity of her throne room, the wicked Witch feels a flux in the energy of the place in the split second before her seat rends itself in two. A resounding  _CHACK_ fractures the air as her chair splits down the middle and opens up, Salem slipping through the opening and her knees hitting her chest. She looks ridiculous, like the poor soul who sat on the toilet without realizing the seat was left up until it was much too late. Dumfounded, speechless.

"She died when you were a baby." Gypsy shakes her head as she props her temple against her knuckle, sounding like she's just thinking out loud and in denial. "Glynda said she _died_.... said she _saw her._ _They all_ saw her die."

"Maybe...maybe whatever she has to do with the Grimm happened before then?"

"No." she says immediately. "Magic doesn't age well most of the time, save for the big stuff, doubly not so well on people unless the magic was woven under particular circumstances. I would have known if that was the case."

"What kind of circumstances?"

"...Death, birth, heartbreak, reunion, those are the most common. A Witch's last breath has been known to carry incredible power since forever, since the first Witch died."

"Zerline?"

She looks at him sideways again. "Where'd you hear of her?"

"Yumi's storybook."

"Hmph," her shoulders jump with the curt chuff, "they'll peddle anything to kids these days. But no, not her, that's 'first' with a little 'F'. Stories say it was her eldest daughter that was the first Witch to die."

Jaune goes quiet, content to just listen as his mother regales him without needing to be asked. The First Witch had two daughters, both faunus like her. The eldest was supposedly a breed of faunus never seen again in Remnant since and there is no known record as to what she was exactly, only that she had been great and powerful with horns and whiskers and midnight blue skin. She had been the primary teacher to humanity in regards to hunting after the Grimm had been born and was the finest warrior of several ages. Legend says her semblance could call down a skyful of stars to the earth and, being a Witch herself, had allowed her to draw Remnant gently closer to the sun to make winter less difficult on the humans.

When the time came for Zerline to seal away her darkness, her eldest was mortally wounded. Believing it the only way, she used her final words to weave the powerful magic that pulled the Grimm into the mirror and trapped it there.

But in spite of having split all her darkness from her, Zerline still felt the pain of loss at her daughter's death. Supposedly this pain radiated throughout the world as rain and earthquakes, creating the great mountain barrier between Vacuo and Vale, as well as the inland sea surrounding Ithica in Mistral. A chunk of central Atlas simply disappeared, leaving a bottomless bay where had once been spanning tundra.

"Supposedly Zerline drew the first constellations in the sky as tribute to her daughter." Gypsy finishes, sounding like she's recalling a fond memory instead of telling story.

Jaune is still wordless, seeming in awe. Then "Do you believe it?"

"Considering I'm here, and I am what I am, I almost have to." she laughs a little, sipping the last of her cold coffee.

Jaune nods. True enough. "What about her other daughter? And didn't Zerline have a son?"

"To my knowledge, though I don't have any stories about them to tell you at the moment." she pauses to put a couple more pieces of the puzzle in place.

"...What if that's why the Grimm seemed to focus on me? Because I'm the son of a Witch?"

"Goodness, I hope not." her brow knits as she pulls off her glasses, rubbing her eyes. "...I know if I got my hands on it I could put it down. It's what I  _should_ do."

"Momma, please,"

"I know, son, I know." Gypsy stretches, feeling stiffness in her shoulders beginning to turn painful. "If there's even a small chance that there's a person inside that... _thing_ , as a Witch -and yourself as a huntsman- we have a sort of obligation to help." she crossed her arms in front of her and leans on them, shrugging. "I'd certainly hate to think someone  _chose_ to be twisted up like that."

"Me too." he admits with a slow nod, his features stretching at the thought. Twisted is a good way to describe it, he thinks. A real good way.

His mind flickers back to the morning at the lake, to the creature so much like and at the same time so  _unlike_ a Grimm. This encounter with it greatly resembled the first, although this time he fought back, and stranger still is that Jaune was convinced it  _noticed_ . It remembered all but plowing him over the last time they directly crossed paths, and had been surprised how much had changed, maybe even lost on the fact that he was holding his own and  _pushing back_ . There's a little pride in him. He really had come a long way and that had given him ample evidence to his progress.

But the small blossom of warmth fades after only a moment of coming into being. His thoughts settle on the other haunting aspect of his fight with the hybrid. Its face. Its plainly human face hidden beneath the sweat and dirt and blood that was then revealed as it pulled itself out of the lake after Alice had so unceremoniously threw it in. He had seen unbridled fury, fangs, a menacing hunger in its eyes, as well as flickers of the kind of pain that drives you more than it drags you down. A certain desperation that he himself wasn't familiar with, but had seen on a few rare occasions.

Yet that still wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it is how much its appearance had sparked his memories. Memories that should never come within a hundred- _million_ miles of that thing or anything associated with it. But his brain still latched onto them the millisecond the similarities became apparent and had swamped his head with sacrilegious imagery  _-give me your eyes. I'll_ _**shatter** _ _you, boy-_ until he blacked out. After that he dreamed for the first time since coming home, and it had been anything but pleasant. He had yet to say anything about it to his mother, mostly because when he woke up she was already distraught, he didn't want to give her something else to worry over. Because she  _would_ worry. 

Even now his thoughts linger on the unsettling things his mind created, as impossible as they actually are. As he knows they are.

"Times like these I wish my sister and I didn't live so far apart." Gypsy shrugs, pulling down one ear and scratching it from base to tip. "Awful problematic when those chumps in Vale can't get that tower working right."

"I heard it was supposed to be active again around the Solstice. At least that's what it said on the news."

"Well I hope you're right, I'd hate to go down there and do it myself." the two of them share a little laugh. "But I'd like to think if Gee-Gee knew any different, she'd tell me."

"Hmph,"

"You know something I don't about my own sister?"

For a moment he stares at the table, the puzzle pieces both conjoined and scattered in front of him, mentally acknowledging the pulse of sarcastic meanness in his gut.  _I just know her and Ozpin and Qrow all tried to turn my best friend into a weapon and convinced her it was her job to clean up their mess._

"Jaune?"

"No, momma, I don't." he shakes his head and then pulls his hand down his face. "I think I'm going to lay back down."

"Alright, just take your sister with you and put her back to bed." though in the back of her mind she feels like she should keep him a little longer, try to make him talk about what's so obviously bothering him. But she knows he needs to try and rest.

"She'll likely start fussing if I take her to her room," he says in passing as he gets to his feet. "She can sleep with me."

Gypsy smiles. "Such a good big brother." and she kisses his cheek before sending him on his way. "Goodnight, dear."

 

To the east of the Warren and beyond its neighbor, is Hedgeway. It has begun to snow here in earnest, the winds whipping across the grasslands surrounding the slightly larger town since just before dark. By morning it would likely be covered in no less than a foot of solid white.

Most of the houses are dark, everyone having long since turned in for the night. One house has a lit lantern in the window, the sole occupant still awake, a withered widow who feels something just isn't quite right tonight. Then there is the gentle orange glow from the second floor window of the inn that flickers and moves around a solid black silhouette.

Though she can only see flickers of snowflakes in the pitch black outside the window, Cinder smiles, amused. She didn't see a lot of it as a child -it rarely snowed in Mistral save for the northern extremes, a region she can't remember having ever visited- so she always found it to be a nice surprise. A smoldering coal of frustration glows in her gut, but it's a little thing. The snow would impede them for a day or two, likely, that is if the weather breaks by morning. If not, she and Neo could be here for some time. Though that certainly isn't the worst. Having a roof over their heads and a warm bed is hardly unfavorable.

However, if she feels the pull of her focus with the intensity she had two days ago, they would have to move and move quickly. It was so  _close_ , maybe mere miles away. Her face unconsciously turns into a heatedly interested grin, her brimstone eyes giving off the faintest glow, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

Cinder puts her back to the window, expression unchanged as she faces the fireplace and feels its warmth wash over the front of her even at this distance and adjusts the blanket covering her naked body. Her gaze drifts up from the floor to linger on the flames in the iron stove, then moves again to the small and worn looking table that's barely big enough for two. The innkeeper's cat is perched there -every door in the place had a cat-door in it so the animal could come and go- with all its feet tucked up under its fat body as it silently stares back at her. Stares at her with its cunning blue eyes like it knows what she is but, like most cats, simply doesn't care. Likely all it cares about are belly rubs.

Cinder's attention is snatched up by the dull ringing she's rather certain only she can hear. Her eyes flicker from the cat on the table to her worn denim pants in a pile at the foot of the bed. There is a faint glow coming from the small mirror in her pocket, someone is trying to reach her. Judging by the rough, nails-on-a-chalkboard sort of hum, it's likely Salem. She stares at it, not necessarily weighing her options. She's already decided she isn't going to answer. She hasn't answered Salem in weeks -just as Emerald hasn't answered  _her_ , and had no intention of doing so now. What was the old bitch going to do to her anyway?

She strolls across the room with no apparent hurry, completely ignoring the chiming relic hidden in her clothes, and settles back into bed. Neo stirs a little, rolling to put her back to Cinder, then settles. Cinder maneuvers herself to lay her head on the pillows, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the fire until she feels sleep beckoning. It's moments like these that allow her constantly moving thoughts to somewhat still, for all the scheming and tab keeping to settle.

Moments when, in the strange fashion of one's thoughts just before sleep, they unconsciously drift towards the woman who raised her.

Amalthea had been some sort of faunus, maybe a sheep of some kind considering the corkscrew thickness of the horns she had, and a Witch of considerable age. Cinder never thought her a particularly  _kind_ or affectionate woman, but she hadn't been malicious, certainly not to her. Amalthea was very...to the point, practical, and had a finite amount of patience, most of which she seemed to spare only for Cinder.

What the Fall Maiden didn't know -more so didn't remember- is that Amalthea found her in the marshes surrounding Caissa, the Witch having seen the barefoot and barely clothed child rummaging through patches of wild pumpkins and waterfowl nests in search of food several times before approaching her and convincing her to follow her home. What she didn't know but suspected as she got older was that Amalthea noticed the scorch marks Cinder left behind everywhere she went, and knew exactly what she had been capable of even as a child. And what she suspected now and believed to be true was that Amalthea had been either afraid or intrigued by her power, and split her soul into a focus to keep her from immolating half the kingdom in the throws of a tantrum brought on by the Witch making her wear proper clothes.

Cinder almost laughs to herself. She had been such a wild little shit. But, strangely enough, Amalthea knew how to handle her.

_Be a flame, child, make people mind you. Drive off any and all those who don't know how to tend you properly, that don't know how to best serve you. There will only be a small few, and to them you must be inviting and warm. Draw them in like moths, but be certain that they don't forget your power. Don't let them forget what you are and how your sparks consume. Be fire, child, be strong. Make all others wilt before you no matter how tall they stand._ _Suppose we all came from Dust, well Dust is all that remains in the wake of an inferno._

Inferno. The word echoes alongside the others, though a bit louder. An inferno, yes, that's what Cinder had become. That's what she strove to be since she was old enough to understand what the Witch had meant. Somehow Amalthea had known what Cinder was, perhaps just like the fat cat on the table knew, and instead of trying to control her like most of the people she had met throughout her life thus far, she wanted to see her flourish and flare into something powerful. Made her feel like it was her natural state, her  _destiny_ .

_Do you believe in destiny?_

Her eyes close and her brow furrows. Reflexively she clears her mind, everything going blank, forcing a few moments of mental silence until sleep swallows her.

 

_(II)_

The Solstice in Atlas is celebrated somewhat differently than in the other kingdoms. All four regions observe it with celebration and feasts and the closing of most non-essential businesses, but Atlas in particular preps for several weeks of  _heavy_ snow and no sunlight. Most of the city's activity will be sequestered to the complex system of tunnels that run beneath the streets, maintaining the citizenry's access to anything and everything they need. Atlas Academy would be in recess for a week before resuming its usual business, as would the council. Comparatively, the Schnee Dust Company would be closed from stem to stern for a mere three days, and their junior executive has sworn off work in any and every form until after the holiday.

The Schnee household has been hustling and bustling all day in preparation for the festivities. Since trees aren't so commonplace in Atlas, the house is devoid of them as well as mistletoe and holly which is much more frequently on display in Vale. Still, traditional decorations are being hung in the den and dining room and main entryway -which was now fully restored and devoid of scorch marks. Bolts of bright red fabric coil the banisters and hang from the tops of the windows, cinched off in grandiose bows and accented with bronze bell ornaments. The fireplace in the den is done up in similar fashion, the mantle cleared of photographs for a Solstice tradition that would bring the social gathering to a close. But that would be hours from now.

Weiss couldn't remember the last time the house felt so welcoming, or when she had last felt so happy to be home. It feels so warm, so  _full_ , and she's surrounded by people who genuinely want to be here and be with her. While she moved about her room to dress for dinner she only half noticed how she sang to herself, and happily so. She didn't fully grasp how light she felt until she saw herself in the mirror, appearing to naturally smile as she tied her hair into its usual off-set ponytail. But unlike countless times before, she didn't try to suppress it. Weiss lets the joy move through her, fill her up and escape as wordless notes that ring throughout her bedroom.

Ruby is just down the hall, on her way to change with Tag right beside her and trying to convince the faunus that the emerald green dress she's wearing doesn't make her tail look fat. Ruby wants to laugh, mostly because Tag isn't sure why she's suddenly so worried how her tail looks when it has never crossed her mind before. Instead she assures the older huntress that she looks just fine and chances are everyone else will say the same thing and she has nothing to worry about. Tag asks if humans ever have this problem, to which Ruby readily admits to, remembering back in Beacon how Weiss and Yang would all but agonize over their looks every morning. Then Tag asks if she thinks Billy would like it. Ruby just smirks and wonders aloud if they should take a picture on her scroll to send them, an easy task seeing as the CCT in Vale should be online by midnight tonight. Tag just blushes.

Yang feels like wearing a ponytail tonight and chances doing it herself with her prosthetic. The rubber pads on her mechanical hand catch on the wild tresses, pulling little pinches across her scalp, but it's tolerable. She had thought about asking for Blake's help, but she was getting more out of watching her partner getting dressed over her shoulder.

_It's a nice dress, isn't it?_

Yang smiles comfortably to herself, working her fingers loose of the rubber band, satisfied with how her hair sits against her bare back.  _Real nice. Looks great on you. It would look a lot better-_

_On the floor? You honestly didn't think I wouldn't catch that?_

Yang laughs aloud, turning around with her arms crossed. She looks Blake over, making zero effort to hide whatever hungry desire might have been visible in her eyes. The dress reminded her very much of the dance at Beacon, though this one was solid black with a scattering of tiny crimson rhinestones across the chest and hugged her like a second skin. Hugged her like Yang wanted to hug her.

_I can_ hear _you staring._

A light chuckle as she shakes her head, taking a breath.  _I'm crazy about you. You're so beautiful._ Tucked under her arm, her flesh hand curls around her thumb, squeezing it like the shrink said to. Squeezing it because she feels good and Blake looks great and she wants to think of her every time she wants to feel like this again. "I won't lie. I'd love to see you out of it."

Blake smiles, blushing in the gentle way only she could.  _Maybe._

And the thought rings between them loud and clear, like church bells. Yang's eyebrows lift and her eyes widen, allowing Blake to really see the little flickers of red in them -just like her own.

"You're joking."

"Why would I be joking?"

Yang feels every last drop of blood pooling in her cheeks. She can't find the words, and only manages the stupidest smirk on one corner of her mouth.

"Unless that would be, you know," Blake fumbles sympathetically, "too much for you."

_I_ really _want you to get me off._

Blake is only marginally shocked by the thought, more so by the intensity of it.  _But I'm not going to hurt you to do it._

"I've been doing this anchoring thing for about two weeks now, maybe it's time to see how well it works. And those back rubs you've been giving me are helping,"

True enough. The therapist had recommended regular, controlled periods of physical contact to steadily take the edge off Yang's sensitivity, and there had been  _some_ progress. "I'll think about it."

We _will think about it._ And Yang makes sure she sees the determined intent in her expression.  _You know, I think it's actually kind of hot that we can talk like this and no one knows. Very sexy._

_Don't you mean sneaky?_

_No, I mean sexy. But sneaky works too._

Blake smiles knowingly. "Now would you put a shirt on? You can't go to dinner like that, Weiss would have a heart attack."

_More likely a Schnee-zure._

Blake just groans loudly.

"But you have to admit, that would be kind of funny."

"Just get dressed."

"Yes, my Maiden."

The heated shiver that went through Blake carried across their connection, and she knew it because Yang had the most smug look on her face. She said that on  _purpose_ .

Qrow sulks in his room, drinking, thinking, like he has been doing for days now. He knows he needs to apologize properly, most of all to Yang, but for someone like him it just isn't easy to sound sincere. He had no intention of attending the dinner, but maybe he'd make an appearance before the night was over. Likely not.

Ren and Nora have spent most of the afternoon deciding what to wear. That is if decision making could be quantified as Ren sitting on the foot of the bed, resigned to have clothing hurled at him as Nora digs through everything in the wardrobe.

Winter and Daisy would be fashionably late, having offered to act as General Ironwood's escort to the manor as a courtesy. Everyone was at the table when they came into the dinning room, all three in perfectly pressed uniforms. Everyone greets one another in turn with genuine smiles and gratitude for extended invitations. 

Weiss watches everything unfold from her place at the head of the table, Winter on her right and Ruby on her left. Dinner had never been like this before. There was almost never conversation, unless you defined a conversation as listening to your father bitch about his day. There certainly wasn't laughter at the table as there is now. General Ironwood seems almost uncharacteristically talkative this evening, much to Weiss' amusement, as is Winter. Throughout the entire meal she will stop several times just to take it all in, to recognize the warmth perched in her chest and how this house really feels like home now.

"Hey, you okay?"

Weiss blinks out of her quiet adoration, looking to Ruby and finding a little worry on her face. "I'm fine." and she smiles, finding Ruby's hand beneath the table and taking a brief but secure hold of it.

After the meal the party adjourns to the den, a few of them plopping on the plump sofa while Winter takes up residence in front of the piano that had been moved from the parlor down the hall, visibly excited to do so. Those that don't sit gather around the immense instrument, listening intently even as she simply stretches her fingers and warms up to playing a proper piece. Tag is completely spellbound by it, having never seen one much less heard anything like it before. Even after having lived with the Schnees for more around two months, she thought it was just a fancy table. The faunus physically jumps and breaks into a fit of surprised giggles at the first chord that rings out of it, but comes to love the music that follows. When Winter starts to play a common Atlesian waltz, Ironwood offers the Spring Maiden a dance. When she hasn't the slightest clue what a waltz is, he offers to teach her.

Dancing seems contagious on the Solstice as soon enough the den is full of pairs, all hand in hand and stepping in time to the music. At one point Winter and Daisy switch, allowing Specialist Holiday to tickle the ivories while the elder Schnee humors the general for just one dance. And while Daisy isn't formally trained like Winter and her repertoire consists mostly of vulgar bar chanties, but her ability still makes for a good time. Yang knows some of the songs and sings along, most of the others unsure if she's singing badly on purpose or not. Blake knows she's just joking around - _I know you can do better._ \- giving her Guardian a particular look that only garners a smirk and a wink. Yang's antics were enough to earn a few laughs, which is all she wanted.

The dancing eventually devolved into idle chit-chat and the passing around of warm cider and coffee to those who were interested. It wasn't that late in the evening yet, but most of them were ready for the closing ceremonies. It's common tradition all across Remnant to observe the Solstice as a time of celebrating memories and loved ones that had passed. This ritual of sorts varies from kingdom to kingdom, as does the observance of the holiday in general, but in Atlas and Vale, candles are lit and left to burn through the night. Klein enters the den with a box of them in an array of colors, though a noticeable cluster of them are white.

Winter takes three of the white candles from the box with a nod and a quiet thank you, and as she lines the up on the mantle, one beside the other, she pauses to watch Weiss collect one more. "Just this once, so we can be done with him." she says with a sigh. Winter nods again, understanding. With a long-stemmed kitchen match the sisters light them one by one. Grandfather, grandmother, mother, and father.

"May I?"

Weiss turns her head to see General Ironwood beside her, one hand open in silent request for the still lit match which she is quick to pass on. "Would it be rude of me to ask who you're lighting it for?"

"Not at all." he replies, neutral as he focuses on the flame as it grows around the wick of the candle. Satisfied he passes it to the next person, Ruby, who begins lighting the first of three candles. "She was the only woman I ever considered leaving the military for."

Weiss' shock is apparent. "You must have loved her very much."

"I did." he tucks his chin, brow gently furrowed for a brief moment. "She died shortly after delivering our second child." 

"I'm very sorry."

"Thank you." he nods and just turns his head far enough to look at her. "The baby survived, so I have that at least." And then he smiles in a way she had never seen before.

Weiss has the strangest conflicting feelings at the moment, weighing whether or not to ask further. A more convincing part of her says to leave it be, and she does.

Tag leans in over Ruby's shoulder, watching as she lights the candles. "So...what is this?"

"It's something we do during Solstice, so we don't forget people that aren't with us anymore."

"Ah, I see." the faunus nods. "Who are these for?"

"One is for my mom, another for my friend Penny," she pauses, swallowing a small thickness in her throat, "and this one's for Pyrrha."

"Is this just for humans or...could I,"

"Of course you can," she restrains a reflexive laugh, quickly reminding herself Tag simply isn't from the same world she is. "Your mom too?" Because somehow she just knows.

"Yes. And thank you."

Ren and Nora light five candles, one for each of their parents, and of course one for their fallen teammate.

Blake takes two candles from the box when Klein comes by, placing them on the mantle close together, though somewhat apart from all the others.

"Why bother?" Yang thinks aloud, appearing to sulk as she stands beside her partner. "They didn't care about us."

Blake sighs quietly, striking a match and staring into the flame for a moment. "In their own way, they did, just not in a way that was good for us. Consider it an acknowledgment." Because forgiveness was long since off the table. This was more so acceptance and condolences than anything else. It's what they needed. "Raven stayed away for your sake, Yang."

"I know. But like you said," she rolls her shoulders, "wasn't good for me." Yang lifts her head, expression tight as she stares hard at the candles, her thoughts buzzing like heated static between her and Blake. No words, just a low roiling of blurred emotions.  _You want to get out of here?_

_And go where?_

_Where do you think?_

_Not if you're upset. As much as I'd love to, I'd prefer it if you calmed down a little first._

A cooler sensation slips between them. _Guess I'm still pretty bitter._

_And that's okay. I just don't want that following us to bed._

_I get it...hold my hand then? To tide me over?_

And before Blake can ask which one, she feels cool metal and textured rubber glancing across her hand, settling between her fingers. They look at each other, a mixture of curious sympathy and uncertain hope.

"It's still weird, isn't it?" Yang asks, expression kinking up as if she expects rejection.

"I'm getting used to it." Blake offers an encouraging smirk. "You know...how about we walk around the manor a while and then head to bed?"

"I like the sound of that." Yang grins knowingly, her chin tucking as her cheeks redden a little. "Help me clear my head." and she tries to step away, meaning to pull her hand free, becoming visibly surprised when Blake just grips it tighter and starts to walk with her. "Don't wait up for us, Ruby."

"Just keep the noise down, some of us intend to use our bed for  _sleeping._ " Ruby says all this with a knowing smile.

"And so do we, it just might take us a while." the older sister chuckles with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Goodnight."

It wouldn't be long until the others followed suit and filed off to bed, leaving the candles to burn down and snuff themselves out.

 

 

Author's Note: Stupid headcanons are stupid. This was a bit of a filler chapter, I know, but I'm actually quite certain that after next chapter we're jumping hot and heavy back onto the plot train. But next chapter we're going to see how the Solstice is celebrated in the Warren. This may seem like a weird place to end it, but I just kind of got lost there at the end. Be on the look out for a one-shot titled "Cat's Cradle" as it will regale all you bumbleby fans with what our girls get up to after hours. Leaving it in just felt like it screwed with the rhythm of storytelling too much. I'll try and have it out before the next chapter, but with my moving date looming ever closer, who knows. Thanks for all the comments and reviews, love you all, hope to see you next time!

 


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Solstice never comes to the Warren by surprise or without invitation, as even days or weeks before the holiday arrives the place comes alive with music. Lola hums all morning as she tends the animals, Alice might be caught dancing with any of her various textile projects, and Bev may go unseen for hours at a time as she practices with Jaune, Jessica, Nessa, and her father. And this doesn't stop when the family comes together for dinner; they all sing -with the exception of Nessa who is tone deaf- as the table is set and food is laid out, go quiet long enough to eat, and then are right back at it once the meal is finished. The entire house seems to hum with the ringing of layered harmonies in differing dialects from all four kingdoms -Menagerie included, the vaulted ceilings of the barn-style home making for great acoustics.

While the Arc family wouldn't be joining their neighbors for the holiday this year, they still mean to observe it in their particular fashion. Trixie cuts down a modest tree for them to set up in Bev's room -it's the largest one in the house in that it takes up half of it, having once been a storage area. Jessica and Alice make ornaments for it from paper and fabric, some of them shaped like little stuffed huckles with big eyes and fat lips, and give them to Yumi to hang on the branches. Gyspy makes enough orchati for twenty-five people, knowing for a fact that it would all be gone once the kids knew what it was. On the morning of the holiday a panel of thin but very sturdy wood is maneuvered in the center of Bev's room, a necessity if the family meant to dance without the worry of tripping on the seams of the floorboards. Some of the varnish has been worn down to the grain from years of use.

As snow falls heavily outside, the sun having set and the cold of winter settling in as if in audience, the Arc family gathers one by one, some dressed in their finest, some not as they weren't hosting any company. Gypsy had only demanded they _not_ show up in their pajamas. The Arc matriarch and her husband loved dressing up for one another, so they were easily the most stunning pair in the house with matching maroon silk; Noah is in a pressed black vest and trousers, and his wife is wearing a golden scarf in her hair and a black dress that flared near the bottom to reveal crimson panels. The Solstice is also one of the very rare occasions where the Arcs can be seen wearing shoes out of desire and not necessity, shoes with smooth soles and raised square heels. Dancing shoes.

A bench that used to sit at the dinning table before it simply ceased being big enough is arranged near the spanning wooden panel, Bev bringing a rack of several guitars -most of them home made- to set behind it, just within arm's reach. She then helps Lola and her father over to it, situating Noah in his wheelchair at one end of the bench and her sister just beside him. Lola had some of the best ears in the house, but with all the noise that would be going on, she still needed to be as close to him as possible to hear. Nessa settles down next to her sister, but not on the bench. She taps Lola's foot with her own to let her know she's close by before arranging her own seat which is made up of half an old wine cask that's been modified with a flat wooden face, it's tap hole still intact in the back. It's a home made version of a _cajon_ , a percussion instrument integral to the style of music that prevails in Vacuo and Menagerie called Caravan. Nessa frames the flat wooden panel with her legs, her fingers smoothing over it once in a gentle stretch.

Bev grabs her favorite stool and puts it on the other side of Noah. She spots Jaune moving to take his seat next to Nessa and offers a guitar to him before he can settle down. He thanks her with a nod, plopping down on the bench and hunching over the instrument so he can hear it as he tests the tuning. Both Bev and Noah are doing the same thing with the same posture, checking the strings with a few plucks and gentle strums. When he's satisfied Noah plays softly, warming up the old tendons in his fingers.

"Are you playing tonight, Jessica, or are you just going to dance?" He asks aloud.

"Maybe a bit of both." she replies, fussing with the tuft at the end of one ear, maybe convinced there's something stuck in it. "Especially if Jaune is going to dance with momma tonight." Noah just nods and continues to play. Bev joins him, falling into whatever tune her father is playing with little effort.

"Where are your glasses, Jess?" Gypsy snips, sounding a touched disappointed -mostly in herself since she didn't notice it sooner.

"I don't _need_ them to dance _or_ play."

"And with the way she gets so excited when she dances they might fly right off her face." Trixie chuckles as she comes into the room from the hallway. "Orchati is to _die_ for, momma."

"Holy shit, mom made orchati?" the other twin snaps to attention.

"Nessa, _language_ , and what do you think I was doing over the stove all day yesterday? Laundry?"

"That's it, I'm not striking a lick until I get some." Nessa jumps off the _cajon_ and hurries towards the door.

"Best bring a pitcher back so everyone can get in on it." Gypsy calls after her, hoping she heard. With her hands on her hips she shakes her head. "...Anybody seen Yumi?"

"I think she was _literally_ trying to push Billy off of the couch." Alice says as she preens her hair for easily the tenth time. "I tried to tell her not to force them to join in, but,"

"And she listens about as well as the rest of you." the matriarch chuckles. "Noah, maybe you start us off with a song and that'll bring her along?"

"We'll see when Nessa gets back." her husband nods, smiling comfortably. He's ready to go, just as eager to watch Gypsy dance as his wife is to dance for him, but he won't start without the whole family.

It took Nessa longer than anyone expected to return, but she did so with Yumi -the youngest with a big glass jug of orchati in her arms- and Billy, the only marginally larger faunus just behind her appearing to drag their feet a little. Before anyone could ask, Nessa answers.

"I'm thinking tons-of-fun here just isn't used to the cold weather, said they weren't feeling too good so I gave them one of dad's aspirin."

"You all right, Billy?" Gypsy asks anyhow, a hostess has to see to her guests after all.

"I'm fine, as Nessa says, just a little stiff and sore in the neck. I'm already feeling better, thank you." they appear a little clammy too. Could be a touch of a cold.

"Put them up on my bed, Nessa, in case they need to sleep it off. And make sure they bundle up. I can take the couch tonight if I need to."

"Can I sit on your bed too, Bevy?" Yumi bounces on the balls of her feet. Bev's bed was the comfiest as far as she was concerned.

"Bring me that pitcher and you can sit wherever you want." she laughs.

"Don't boggart that or I'll sew you into your pajamas while you sleep." Alice warns as she eyes the littlest one waddling across the floor. "I drew candle watch this year so don't think I won't."

"Assuming I'll sleep,"

"Alright you two," Gypsy puts up her hands in the universal shushing gesture, "you can bicker all you want _after_ the rest of us have gone to bed." Then she looks to her husband. "Satisfied now, love?"

He simply nods and, once Nessa takes her seat again, begins to play.

Noah picked up Caravan style music during his few years abroad, first discovering it in south Vacuo -its kingdom of origin- and its surrounding clusters of islands and then finding it again in greater frequency in Menagerie's West Shore. Within Menagerie's melting pot communities it transformed time and again into something most folks in Vacuo likely would only marginally recognize. Both regions produced wildy evocative and passionate songs and dances, but it seemed like the people in Menagerie took them a full three steps further. Everything in Menagerie seemed faster and louder, but no less intricate and grand.

Gypsy, Jessica, and Alice step out onto the wooden platform, forming a line with their mother in the middle and about an arm's length apart. Caravan style dance didn't need much space -contrary to Vale's ballroom style- so this was ample room for them to move. Their heels tap the floor in time with Noah's already quick strumming, marking time, force being steadily added to the motion to compensate for the added sound of more strings and clapping hands. Nessa taps the top rim of the _cajon_ , the percussive sound just loud enough to hear but not overwhelming. When Noah starts to sing -not in the common tongue, but in the unique dialect of West Shore, the room explodes with sound. Jaune joins his voice to his father's for the melody, and when the chorus comes the entire family sings aloud, almost enough to make dust come down from the rafters. Billy is actually a little startled, jumping in their seat on Bev's bed, which makes Yumi laugh as she perches on the hunter's thigh.

The thunder of striking heels matches the rhythm of the strings, dresses flaring to reveal the hidden colors as the three women dance and turn in place. Particular to the style one hand is always free with fanning fingers and a flicking wrist, bracelets and rings jingling, while the other sits on the hip or clasps the hem of the dress so the movements of their feet are more visible. Gypsy's posture, while proper, shows a degree of relaxed comfort that comes from having mastered these dances in her late teens. Every step is precise, right on time, but the rest of her body moves with reflexive ease. Jessica has to consciously focus and it shows in her rigid, almost overly formal posture. It would be perfect in a classroom or public performance. Alice, on the other hand, takes more after her mother and is the most fluid and relaxed of the three, albeit unorthodox. But it's obvious that she has a great love for doing it _her_ way, which is all that matters

The song ends with a final, punctuated stomp of heels and applause and cheers. A lack of a bigger audience didn't take away from the wonderful energy that filled the room. All the worry that's been hanging over the family disappears entirely, evicted by the innocent happiness of familial love. Gypsy steps aside, allowing Jess and Alice to have their shot at a little sibling rivalry. Just some healthy exposition that everyone enjoyed, a pleasant reminder to Gypsy just how unique and special her daughters are. The sisters hug before the music begins and again when it ends, no hard feelings. Then they step off the floor to make room for the twins.

The nature of Trixie and Nessa dancing is the exact opposite of Jess and Alice; instead of low key competition, it's a blatant celebration of being two sides of the same coin, of being able to tap into a singular vein of energy that no one else could. They leaned more towards the rare fusion of Caravan and Vale ballroom style, commingling the heavy heeled steps with close quarters and joined hands more customary to a waltz. They're spirited and animated and the air around them seems to buzz with a sort of magic. Appropriately so. When they'd had enough, Alice takes the floor again for a solid half hour because she loves to dance alone almost as much as she loves to be the center of attention.

The family rests for a spell, a moment to catch their breath and rest their tiring feet and fingers and sip orchati while they talk. Gypsy sits at Noah's feet and lets him stroke her ears with one hand while she holds and kisses the thick knuckles of the other. Jaune hunches over his guitar, arms folded beneath his chin, and simply listens. He never realized just how much he had missed them all, missed _this_ , being with them and just enjoying being alive. All the years being a teenager and wanting to strike out on his own, as young boys about to be men tend to do, seemed suddenly ludicrous to him now. Who would ever _want_ to walk away from this? Walk away from this and _into_ the waiting jaws of countless Grimm? A fool, most likely. Jaune unconsciously nods to himself.

_You're a fat-headed fool, Jaune Arc. You chose to leave all of this for the glory of being a huntsman. To kill Grimm. And you got that. And you got a woman killed. You handed Cinder Fall the power of a Maiden on a silver platter. You gave her the power to turn the world on its head, and she did that. Then she took-_

"Jaune, dear,"

Jaune snaps to attention, feeling a hand on his knee.

"Why the long face, son?" Gypsy asks softly.

"Sorry, mom, just...just thinking. I'm all right." he offers her a smile, the most genuine he could, hoping she'll believe it.

But deep down, she doesn't buy an ounce of it. She knows her children well enough to tell when they're just trying to spare her something. Still she smiles back, returning his little white lie with one of her own. She nods, her eyes moving away from him for a moment with a little sigh. "I suppose you'll contact your friends soon."

"Hmm?"

"The news confirmed the tower will be online around midnight."

"Oh, I didn't notice." maybe he had hear it in passing, but he couldn't be sure. "But...yeah, I guess I will. Maybe tomorrow morning."

"...But that's tomorrow, right?" she gives him a hopeful look.

"Right. Tomorrow."

"Will you still dance with me?"

"Sure, momma." he nods. "Now?"

"In a moment." Because Noah was scratching her ear just right and she wasn't ready for him to finish. Sure, she was likely to get more - _much_ more- later, but that was later and this is now. "A little to the left, husband,"

"Yes dear."

When she's ready to dance, Gypsy gracefully stands and stretches, pushing downward on the small creases in her dress as Jaune sets the guitar aside and stands as well. He takes the hand she offers with a much more believable smile and the two step out onto the dance floor.

Gypsy's father had taught her this dance just as his mother had taught him. They would dance together every Solstice until his mother was too old, and then carried on the tradition with her as she did now with Jaune. Without any other male siblings to pal around with, Gypsy thought it important to give Jaune more personal attention so he wouldn't feel less loved. None of his sisters knew the dance like he did, mostly because Gypsy wouldn't teach them. This is _their_ tradition.

Unlike every other dance tonight, they start in the middle of the floor but with their backs to one another. Noah watches for a signal from his wife, a tip of her chin, and then he and Bev start to play again. Lola gently clears her throat, trying to focus on both the sound of the strings beside her as well as the patterned steps coming from the floor, listening for the right time to begin singing. Gypsy and Jaune take three long, calculated steps away from each other as the notes carry on, hands moving above their heads as their fingers flair and wrists turn over. Then they turn in place to face each other, and Lola begins to sing in her unique, naturally low register.

Gypsy and Jaune steadily advance and retreat, advance and retreat, occasionally meeting in the center to catch each other about the waist with one hand and turn together in a full circle only to separate again. From Billy's perspective the two looked like the stilt-legged waterfowl they remembered from home, posturing to impress.

Jaune knows the dance, coupled with the traditional song, was meant to tell the story, but he couldn't remember it. He was only fluent enough in the language it was written in to remember the words but not their meaning. Still he loves it, loves the way hearing it makes him feel and the comforting closeness of his mother even when they are apart. He hadn't realized until this moment how badly he needed this. And by the way Gypsy smiles at him every chance she gets, he can tell she has needed this too, and likely just as much. When the song is over and they meet in the middle for the last time, Gypsy throws her arms around him and just holds him tight, lips pressing to his hair and her ears folded back. She's feeling a little overwhelmed, and her first reflex is to grab up the nearest child and hug them half to death.

Shortly after midnight, after everyone has had their fill of song and dance and orchati, it's time to light the candles. They're small and white and fixed to thin brass stands that will be fastened to the tree and lit. Since Alice has the watch tonight, she has the privilege of lighting them. The rest of the family stands in a sort of crescent formation, Yumi coaxing Billy out of the bed to join in, though the older faunus is unsure if it's polite to do so until Gypsy waves them over. With her tiny hand around Billy's thick finger, the littlest Arc files them in with the others and takes Jaune's hand with her free one.

For a moment Billy just watches, their brow knitting steadily tighter. "What is this? Some sort of ceremony?"

Jaune looks at them, seeing they still don't look so well. "Yeah." he replies softly.

"What does it mean?"

"It's so we don't forget our loved ones that have passed on."

Billy just nods, though they don't seem any less confused. Or the quiet confusion has morphed into something else. Their expressions tended to look alike, usually so serious. "Is that a common risk?"

"I don't think so." Jaune shakes his head, swallowing a small thickness in his throat as his thoughts wander elsewhere, to a soft spot in his mind. "Maybe it's more that we're celebrating their lives. How happy they made us."

"That makes more sense." they nod again, going quiet.

Jaune looks back to the tree, watching Alice fix the last of the candles to the sturdier branches. He clears his throat. "Could you add one more?"

"Huh? Sure little brother."

"So what was your friend's name, Jaune?" Gypsy asks, sounding only a little reserved on the off chance she was going too far.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as thin lines form across his face. "Pyrrha."

All of his sisters stop and look at him, because who on earth doesn't know _that_ name? Gypsy's face stretches with surprise, then her brow furrows as she tells herself she _knew_ she had seen that girl in the picture on Jaune's scroll _somewhere_ before.

"Can I ask you something else?" his mother tries.

"Sure."

"Was it this Cinder you've told me about? The same one that turned Beacon on its backside?"

"...Yeah." part of him doesn't remember telling her about Cinder, but he's slept since then so he isn't surprised.

Gypsy scowls briefly. "Hmph. Here's praying that bitch and I never meet."

In his mind Jaune readily agrees, part of him knowing if that ever actually happened, his mother would surely die. Because Cinder Fall isn't just a bitch, she's a murderer.

With the candles in place and lit, Alice joins her family and the lot of them join hands. Gypsy leads them in one last song to bring the evening to a close.

Since Billy is on their feet more steadily they elect to sleep on the sofa, allowing Bev to keep her bed which she and Alice sit down on for a game of cards to pass the time. The rest of the family steadily files out, meaning to clean up what little mess they had made in the morning. The rest of the kids break off one by one in the hallway, wishing each other goodnight before disappearing behind their doors. Yumi fusses a little, still not wanting to go to bed even though it's _way_ passed her usual bed time and she was fading fast with both ears drooping like her eyelids. Before Gypsy can even ask, Jaune has his little sister in his arms, carrying her to her room. He tucks her in and expects her to demand a story, but she doesn't. Instead she looks up at him with big but sleepy eyes and asks him why he has to leave again. Because sometimes kids just know.

Jaune does his best to explain it, but still feels like he fails. How do you explain putting your life on the line for strangers to a six-year-old and expect them to understand? She sniffles and grabs his hand, trying to be a big girl as she tells him she doesn't want him to go, that she's scared he won't come back. He knows he can't promise her that he'll come home again, he doesn't have the heart to try and sell that lie. Instead he does his best to sooth her and assure her he'll always think of her while he's gone. That he'll never stop trying to make it back.

Lastly she asks him if he's still wearing the necklace she found in the attic, to which he only smiles before pulling it from its hiding place beneath his shirt. She makes him promise he'll never take it off, a promise he might actually keep. He kisses her goodnight and switches off the light before he quietly steps out into the hall.

Jaune makes it to the ladder leading up to his room when a tall shadow falls on him, drawing his attention.

"I'd speak with you a moment, if you have one to spare." the request comes with audible effort, be it from Billy still feeling under the weather or feeling vulnerable.

"Sure, is everything okay?"

"I think so, yes." they nod and then step away from the doorway, giving Jaune room to follow them to the sofa. "Am I to understand contacting the others will be easier now?"

"Um, yeah," it takes Jaune a moment to change his train of thought, "I was planning on sending a text tonight and then probably call them in the morning."

Billy nods, sitting down and grabbing the quilt folded on the arm to drape it across their lap.

"You're sure you feel okay?"

"I'm fine." they nod again, eyes seeming to wander like someone who has something difficult to say. "So we'll be moving soon?"

"I guess."

"Hmm." one more nod, now their eyes are fixed across the room. "Listen,"

Jaune props himself on the arm of the sofa, his arms crossed, waiting.

"I...want to...apologize."

His brows reach for his hairline. "That sounded like it hurt." he chuckles softly.

"It kind of did." Billy laughs a little too. "But in all seriousness, I know I was...needlessly harsh with you."

"It's all right," Jaune shakes his head, "I get it."

"Do you?"

"Harsh is just kind of...your thing."

Surprised silver eyes blink at him. "Ah, fair enough, I suppose, but that isn't the only reason. I didn't say those things for the sake of browbeating you."

"Good to know."

They take a deep breath, hands folding over the swell of their stomach. "I'll admit I'm rough around the edges, but I believe it is for good reason. It is how I've survived and how I've taught others to do the same. I'm not trying to make excuses, just trying to explain myself. I was responsible for training dozens of hunters, all of them fine young people like yourself." they're quiet a moment, maybe thinking, maybe searching for words, then they shrug. "Most of them were killed when that thing came to my village, that thing and those other faunus with _guns_ . To this day I can't decide what's more painful -having my own children murdered, or knowing they died in spite of what I taught them. Or died _because_ of what I taught them.

"Point is...I don't wish for that to happen to you. I'm doing the best I can with what I know and I'm afraid that won't be enough. I was angry with you because I felt like you were choosing to ignore my efforts to protect you. Your family, your pack, they all deserve for you to survive, and it infuriated me to think they didn't matter to you. But,"

Jaune seems surprised by the _but_.

"I think I've realized that wasn't your intent." they smile at him. "They're everything to you. You love them so effortlessly, you give them everything you have. You would willingly give your life for them, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah." only a little hesitation, mostly born of surprise from an unexpected question.

"Though I believe a part of you may be worried that might change if you...take my direction. Perhaps they wouldn't want what you have to give any longer if you took that step."

Jaune isn't sure what to say to that, so he says nothing.

"In any case that is your love, sacrifice is how you love your family, by giving of yourself and being compassionate. I don't wholly understand that, mostly because it isn't _my_ love. I'm trying, though, so I hope you would accept my apology."

"What brought this up?"

"Just thought I might not get another chance to say all that if I didn't say it now. If we're to leave soon, there might not be time."

Jaune nods slowly after a moment, processing everything and trying to absorb it. "I accept."

"Thank you."

"You could have said something sooner, though. I would've listened."

"But that wouldn't have been true to my stubborn nature, would it?" Billy smirks, an expression that grows when Jaune laughs. "It's already late, you best be off to bed."

He straightens and takes the first few steps away from the sofa. "Goodnight, Billy."

"Goodnight, Jaune."

He thinks to pause, to bring it up, but doesn't. Instead he smiles to himself all the way up to his room and even after he climbs into bed. They actually used his name.

Jaune will stay awake long enough to type out a text, his finger hovering over the send button no longer than it takes his mind to register the full set of bars -indicating signal strength- at the corner of the screen right beside a thumbnail of Nora's picture.

_Miss you, hope you're all okay. Contact me as soon as you can. Love, Jaune._

Sleep comes easily, and pulls him down deep.

 

Jaune would be jerked awake by the chiming of his scroll the following morning, having the device to his ear for half a second before pulling it away to avoid going deaf via Nora's high-pitched and happy greeting. Just as much for himself as he does for her, Jaune lets her rant for a moment, glad to hear her voice again. Once she calms down enough where he can actually understand what she's saying, he tries to weasel in a few words as politely as possible.

"Nora, listen, I really am glad to hear everyone's all right-" he has to pause as a wave of words surges through the device, "yes, I'm sure Yang's new arm _is_ super-cool, but I need you to listen for a minute. It's here in Vale, the hybrid,"

The line snaps into dead silence. _"...You saw it?"_

"Yeah. It attacked my family, so Billy and I can't stay much longer. What...is there a Plan B yet?"

_"We haven't talked it out yet, not in a lot of detail anyway. Yang's just barely fit to fight again, so..."_

"What about Ruby's uncle? Has he said anything?"

_"Nothing definite. Do you want to talk to him?"_

"I guess. He should know about this too,"

_"I'll go get him."_

Jaune can hear air moving across the receiver on the other end, and it goes on for several moments. In that time Yumi comes sleepily up the ladder, looking still somewhat comatose as she casually crosses the floor and climbs in his bed. Without any visible reaction from him she settles behind her brother and drapes herself across his back, almost fully concealed by the blanket she had dragged along with her. His hand smooths over both of hers as they try to come together over his stomach and can't.

When he finally hears something like a voice again it's the rough clearing of a gravelly throat. Then a shrug. _"Hey, kid, how are you holding up?"_

"Fine." in the back of his mind he's starkly aware of the fact that he's never really known how to talk to Qrow, how to feel about him. "Billy and I are going to have to move soon."

_"Nora told me about the hybrid. When did you see it?"_

"Couple weeks ago now, but I haven't seen it since. According to Billy it hasn't been back around here. Almost like it just disappeared."

 _"While that's good in theory, the less we know about where that thing is, the more worried I am."_ Qrow's grumble carries through the line but sounds more like dull static. _"And it attacked?"_

"Yeah."

_"Learn anything new?"_

"I think so..." his mind shudders, shying away from the idea of filing through that information. "Still trying to get it straight in my head."

_"Understandable. You can tell us all about it when we meet up again."_

"What's the plan?"

_"I haven't passed it along yet, but I've been keeping in touch as best I can with Glynda -that much you know, and the next step will be to meet with her at her manor. You know where Queen's Hollow is?"_

"South of here. I can get there by train."

_"You think it's safe to travel just the two of you with that thing out there?"_

"We knocked it around pretty hard, maybe it'll stay away."

 _"_ Maybe _isn't something to place bets on, kid."_

"I know. Still, if it's here in Vale...who knows what else is coming behind it? Maybe Emerald and Mercury,"

 _"Well...yeah, maybe. You've got a point. Wouldn't be wise having all three you-know-whos in one place._ " he sounded genuinely surprised. _"How long would a train take to get there?"_

"I'd have to double check, but I know it stops just outside the capitol and that Aunt Glynda's place is near there." This time a cuckoo clock on the wall in Glynda's study just falls off its mounting on the wall, in pieces, and she just stares at the pile bitterly.

Qrow is silent for a moment. _"Wha..._ Aunt _Glynda? How-_ ,"

"My mom is her older sister."

 _"..._ Gypsy _? Gypsy is_ your _mother?"_

"Yeah. You and my mom hunted together once, right? In Ithica,"

 _"...Holy shit, kid, how'd...damn, that's digging up some old bones. How did I not...well, never did catch her last name, just knew her as Gypsy, or big sis to Sa-"_ and he suddenly stops.

Jaune takes a breath. "Salem."

The silence stretches for several more seconds. _"Guess you'd know that name too, makes sense."_

"Is she really dead?"

The line is quiet again. _"What makes you ask that?"_

"Because mom fought with the hybrid and said she could feel her sister's magic on it. And don't try to tell me she's mistaken or that it's just old because mom already explained to me how it works."

A strange, ill-fitting laugh flutters through the connection. _"Well, what can I say? You got me by the short ones on this, kid."_

"So?"

_"It'll keep until we're all in one room again, that way we can do all the explaining at once. How soon can you two get moving?"_

"Any day."

_"We have to make some preparations and I need to talk to General Jimmy, but just sit tight and keep your scroll on you. Once I have something I'll contact you."_

"Alright."

_"Now I'm going to give you back to ginger-snaps here before she vibrates through the floor. Take care."_

Jaune just assumes Qrow doesn't hear his response, because the next thing he hears is the continuation of Nora's enthusiastic tirade. He doesn't mind, he misses her too much to mind.

 

It'll be two days before he hears back from Qrow, Jaune's scroll buzzing in his pocket while he's neck deep in a snowball fight with his sisters. He takes a fat one to the face just as he pulls it from his pocket and answers, courtesy of Lola. How she was able to hit him is the closest kept secret in the Warren.

Qrow tells him that arrangements for a flight out of Atlas have been made for bright and early the next day, and that the flight to Vale -even with clear and steady weather- would take six to eight hours. Jaune relays his own progress, saying a passenger train from Watership Station would take almost five hours, but that the Schnee Dust Company supply train would take only four since it didn't have to stop at any other stations along the line. That is, if he was allowed to get on it. Qrow assures him he'd be able to hitch a ride, that SDC employees rarely ever turned down a chance to keep Grimm away from their shipments -and themselves. He goes on to say if things get dicey, Weiss could always be persuaded to help. Qrow then promises to call him again when the airship takes off before hanging up.

Jaune will do his best to spend the rest of his day not thinking about it -he'll do that plenty tonight when he's trying to sleep- and making up excuses not to be alone. And, in a way, he finds the rest of his family doing the same thing. Nessa and Trixie take a break for their chores to spend a while with him on the couch, watching television with him intentionally squashed between them. After that Alice steals him away to put the finishing touches on the boots she has been making for him, having him try them on in case they need adjusting. Bev and Jessica are the exact opposite in that they completely hurl themselves into their work, shutting out not just Jaune but the rest of the household as well. He knows this is just how they are and doesn't hold it against them.

Gypsy is convinced his hair has gotten much too long and shaggy, and sits him on a stool in the kitchen where the light is best to cut it. At first he gripes, using the usual argument of "it'll just grow out again" to which his mother answers with the usual "hush your face and hold still" -lovingly, of course. When she starts singing to herself Jaune joins in, unable to see but clearly able to hear that she's smiling. Lola is sitting on the rug in the living room, she's singing along as she brushes her corgis one by one. Yumi sits on the floor at her brother's feet, pulling off his socks to paint his toenails. It isn't the cleanest job, some of the polish getting on his skin, but he hardly cares. She then declares she's going to do the same for Billy and runs off to find the Bison faunus once she's finished.

When the family comes together for dinner, Noah insists Jaune sit on the bench nearest to him. He accepts, knowing what's going on. It was like this the night before he left for Beacon, but he doesn't bring it up. They allow him first servings, the rest of them not digging in until his plate is full. Conversation is minimal and the air has an anxious sort of weight that everyone's aware of but silent about. Billy asks Jaune what color his toenails are, confessing that theirs are now a flattering shade of pink, and he's more than proud to admit that the color matches his eyes.

Jaune will help his mother clear the table and wash the dishes, never mind that she hadn't asked. As they stand side by side in front of the sink he knows she's trying not to cry, he can hear her sniffling from time to time. Part of him wants to say something, to reassure her maybe, but he doesn't. He knows she'll deflect it in true maternal fashion, because mothers simply refuse to be vulnerable in front of their children sometimes. Though she almost breaks when he says goodnight and tries to go to bed without giving her the customary kiss on the cheek. Gypsy grabs him up with a reigned desperation, one hand at the back of his head to press him to her shoulder. "My boy," she sighs, "my brave boy. I love you _so much_."

"Love you too, momma." then he manages to tip his chin and kiss her like he had almost forgotten to. He has to pull away from her, as much as a part of him simply doesn't want to. That tiny, childish part of him that wishes he'd never left home or heard of Beacon Academy in the first place. He kisses her again and then makes his way to his bed, not at all surprised to find Yumi already curled up beneath his blankets. He just slides in next to her and pulls her onto his chest, again unsurprised when she doesn't wake. Sleep comes easily, dreamless, but it's only partial. A part of his mind is unconsciously alert, waiting for his scroll to go off.

The sun is just coming up when the device rings, giving Jaune more hours of sleep than he expected. His slumber-slow mind processes the person on the other end of the line -it sounds like Weiss but he isn't certain- and he reflexively nods through a quick recap of the plan thus far. The person who sounds like Weiss assures him they'll contact him in a couple of hours to touch base, and he just acknowledges them with a short set of words jumbled together. He doesn't even know what he meant to say. Jaune eventually forces himself to fully wake so he can begin getting ready, taking a minute to tuck Yumi into his bed.

Jaune comes down and into the kitchen to find Billy at the table, hunched over a plate of food. Gypsy is at the stove, stirring something in a big cast iron pan with a wooden spatula. Her long ears angle towards him, her head still and focused on her task. "Don't tell me I didn't have to," she says before he can even open his mouth, like she can read his mind. Then again, mothers are like that. "Just sit down and I'll have your plate ready in a minute."

He just smiles, "Thanks, mom." and does as he's told. As he sits he looks across the table, "How you feeling today, Billy?"

"Just fine." they respond after swallowing a mouthful. "Though you mother was kind enough to let me take some medicine with me."

"Alice and I filled a couple bags for you two, just some essentials to get you where you're going." Gypsy adds, bringing a plate and a mug of coffee to the table, setting them down in front of her son. "I know it gives you jitters, dear, but you'll need it to fend off the chill out there."

Again he thanks her and takes the first few bites.

"And Alice did the best she could with your pouch, Billy, but that sort of hide just isn't common in these parts."

"I know. It isn't common anywhere," they explain, sounding like they know something they aren't willing to share. "But I appreciate the effort all the same, she did a fine job. And I'm grateful for the coat she made me." They're wearing it now, loving the soft warmth of the fleece lining, and the sturdy weight of the thick denim that makes up the rest of it.

"I'll be sure to tell her." Gypsy nods, looking to force the little smile she wore as she sat down. "I'm going to ride with you to the station, make sure you get on safe."

"Mom,"

"I've already got Missy hitched up, so I'll be damned if you change my mind."

"How will you get home by yourself? You'll be breaking your own rule," Billy asks, their effort not to smirk audible in their tone.

Gypsy's ears fold forward and she gently scowls. " _My_ rules are mine to break as I please. You're still a guest in my house and I'll not be sassed." And she holds onto her little frown until both Jaune and Billy laugh, eventually having a chuckle of her own. However the conversation mostly dies there. Jaune can sense his mother's tension, so he doesn't push. After the dirty dishes are rinsed and left in the sink, Gypsy goes to fetch her coat and hat, giving Jaune and Billy the last few minutes they needed to finish getting ready.

The ride to the train station is a quiet one, though there's no anxiety, not that Jaune can feel, outside of the communal nerves of all three of them on the lookout for the Grimm-hybrid. It would've been easy enough to spot, all the red and black among stark white snow, but as far as they could tell there is no trace of it. They'll stop in town just long enough for Gypsy to pick up the post -it had been sitting there almost a week, another day and the postman might burn it- and then move on.

Watership station is only marginally busy this early and this time of year. Well, to be truthful it isn't ever very busy, seeing as so few people actually live in the area. Gyspy will stay astride Missy, lingering by the platform as Billy and Jaune go into the station house to arrange their ride. When they come out again they don't look very pleased.

"What's wrong?"

"The supply train left already." Jaune rubs the back of his head. "We'll have to take the passenger train, it'll cost us an extra hour or two."

"Best call your friends and let them know. You have money for tickets?"

"They said hunters ride free, thankfully they believed me." he chuckles almost pitifully.

"I think he more so believed _me_ ," Billy thinks aloud.

"Serves him right." Gypsy nods, smiling. The expression withers when the train whistles wildly. "You two best be on."

Jaune crouches on the edge of the platform and opens his arms, his mother reciprocating without a second thought. Gypsy squeezes him almost too tightly, and Jaune swears he can hear her sniffling. When they part she can't hide the glistening redness of her eyes. "You call me when you get to your aunt's, you hear?"

"I will, mom. I love you."

"Keep my boy safe, big-and-tall. Please."

"I'll do my best, and thank you again for the hospitality."

"Anytime."

Gypsy watches them walk down the platform and step onto the train, hear heart getting heavier with every step they took and bottoming out when she can't see them anymore. She thought having to watch him leave for Beacon was the hardest thing she would ever have to do, but this was beating that all to hell.

"Excuse me,"

The faunus' ears snap to attention and she clears her throat of the thickness in it before turning her head. "Can I help you?"

"Do you know where this train's headed?"

She doesn't answer right away, needing a moment to take in the two younger women standing a few feet away. One of them, the shorter of the two, seemed ordinary enough, leaving all of Gypsy's attention on the other, fixating most on her dark hair and piercing amber eyes. "...Vale is the end of the line with two stations in between."

"Are tickets still available or will my friend and I have to wait for the next one?"

"If you're huntresses you don't need to worry about tickets. Speak to the ticket master inside. But if that's where you're headed, you best hurry."

The woman's eyes seem to flare like molten gold as an easy smile pulls her mouth. "Thank you so much, I appreciate the help."

"...My pleasure," though her tone eludes to the exact opposite. Something felt terribly wrong, unfortunately that's the only thing the Witch is certain of. She'll watch the two women move onto the platform, watch them like hawks without fully knowing why. And as she turns Missy around to start back home, an awful nagging pulls at the back of her mind, telling her to do anything but that.

 

 

Author's Note:  I feel like this chapter was just a huge does of narrative ipecac. Not to say I dislike it, I had a pretty good time writing it, just...I dunno. Anyway, moving day is coming up and I've got one week left of free time. Consider the 10th of April the beginning of another month-long hiatus. If the time frame changes, be sure to check my Tumblr for more information. Questions and comments are always welcome. Next chapter: I wasn't lying when I said the plot train was coming.

 

Here are some songs and videos that inspired the Arc family festivities!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utUNQENZAH0 (especially inspired Noah's singing voice.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NnDSRy_UL8 (Gypsy and Jaune's dance together, as well as Lola's singing voice.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLFH01qJT3k (inspiration for Caravan style dance in general, really excellent example, though video is low quality.)

As for the songs the Gypsy and the girls sing outside of the Solstice scene, most can be found on youtube by the band Laboratorium Piesni and their first album "Rosna" which you can hear clips of. If you are into Slavic chants and folk music, you should check them out.

 


	31. Chapter Thirty

The lot of them split up and took two small, unmarked Atlesian airships to Vale. It was General Ironwood's idea, his reasoning being the risk of another Grimm attack -having all of the Maidens in one place was just too big a gamble. Therefore Team RWBY would take one ship with Winter -who is almost unrecognizable in plain traveling clothes, while the remnants of Team JNPR, Tag and Qrow would board the other alongside Specialist Holiday. The pair of ships leave ground before the sun rises anywhere other than the most eastern extremes of Remnant.

Most of Team RWBY will sleep through the first leg of the trip, Weiss is still awake -used to being up and about at early hours- but remains in the barracks with Ruby asleep against her chest. She runs her fingers through her hair, petting her, just enjoying the physical contact. Blake and Yang have situated themselves into the same bunk, close but not too close. Blake is content to sleep in a sitting position, a pillow beneath her knees and Yang's head in the formed crook of her waist. Yang has her whale-shaped stress ball in her prosthetic hand -she had gotten quite attached to Fatty, unconsciously stroking its smooth surface with the rubber pad of her thumb and gently stimulating her sleeping mind. The two comfortably share a dream.

On the other ship Qrow dozes while strapped into a seat in the cockpit, neither trying to sleep or to stay awake. He's been going on like this for a few days, something eating at him like it never really has before, eating at him in a way that liquor won't cover up. Ren and Nora are sleeping, but fitfully. Ren keeps waking up, walking the barracks and checking Nora who tosses and turns. Maybe it's the altitude. Tag walks the ship from stem to stern, she's too anxious to sleep. In a few hours she would see her Guardian again and she's been waiting for this for weeks. She misses them _so much_. Every so often she considers sitting in the cockpit to maybe strike up some small talk, but she is still too upset at Qrow to stand his presence for more than a few minutes. Shitbird.

However she will wander there eventually, after a light sleep that she begrudgingly undertakes. Through the broad stretch of glass that circles the cockpit she can see the earth moving below them as a blur of black and white, the sun now over their heads. Tag comes to stand just behind the pilot's chair, squinting gently as she studies the sky ahead of them. Briefly she thinks back to her first ride on an airship, how she had easily enjoyed it while Billy was so anxious it almost made them sick.

"Is this Vale?" she asks softly, but with enough purpose as to be heard over Qrow's rough snoring. "Did I say that right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Daisy answers from the co-pilot's seat, "and yes to your second question as well."

Tag nods slowly. "Have you heard from the others?"

"According to Miss Schnee, Mr. Arc and Billy boarded the earliest passenger train for Vale not," she checks the console in front of her for the time, "maybe two hours ago. At this rate we should reach the capitol by midday."

"How long?"

"A few hours yet. By the looks of those clouds ahead maybe a bit longer."

"More snow?"

"That's what it looks like. I'll know-" Daisy stops to cover her mouth against an incredible yawn, "Excuse me- I'll know better when we get a little closer."

The older faunus nods again and takes a half step forward, wanting a closer look through the glass. Looking down at the rushing landscape she lets her mind wander to inconsequential things; how pretty the forests here must look in spring and what sorts of animals called the countless trees home. Did these woods have snakes like they did in Menagerie? What were the Grimm here like? The thoughts are broken up by an especially loud grinding noise from Qrow, making Tag turn her head and thin her eyes at him. Feeling uncharacteristically petty, she jabs his forehead with the tip of her tail, his head bumping the back of the seat and partially waking him for all of two seconds. After a moment she realizes she's never been more angry at anyone in her whole life, certainly not for as long as this. Grudges are not her nature.

Footsteps from behind make Tag turn all the way around and she finds herself pleasantly distracted. "Good morning, Miss Nora."

"Morning," Nora stretches with one arm behind her head and the other out to the side. "Are we in Vale yet?"

"We are."

"Cool," she's rubbing her eyes now. "I was on my way to get some breakfast, do you want to come with?"

"I'd love to." Tag visibly brightens. Solitude has never suited her, and any chance to avoid it is always welcome. "Will Ren be joining us too?"

"He's already there."

"Wonderful,"

The two start to exit the cockpit, pausing on the threshold between one space and the other when Nora's scroll starts chiming. She fumbles with her pockets for a moment, finally finding it and putting it to ear once she picked up the call.

"Hey, Jaune, how-"

Tag is watching her, initially curious until she sees Nora's expression change. All the color leaves Nora's face, her eyes steadily widening into something Tag can't begin to describe.

"You're sure...where are you?" she finally says, her tone hauntingly even. "I'll tell the others, try to stay put and be careful."

"What's wrong?" Tag is all but shoved aside as Nora makes a quick, jerking about-face and marches up towards the pilot.

"Cinder is on the train." and the response is loud -the sound of the Fall Maiden's name _sharp-_ enough to actually rouse Qrow, his awareness still somewhat shaky but gaining fast. "We have to get to them, can't you fly this thing any faster?"

"We're about to find out." Specialist Holiday shifts in her seat, touching the headset she's wearing to hail the other ship.

Tag understands next to nothing the Specialist says, only just realizing she isn't speaking to anyone present. Instead she focuses on Nora as she comes to stand beside her, brow gently creased with uncertain worry. She's never seen such a stormy firmness on Nora's face before, her bright turquoise eyes staggeringly dark as they're fixed on the horizon, finding the normally cheerful human girl nearly unrecognizable. All but menacing.

"Hang on everyone," Daisy announces, flipping a couple of switches in front of her in congress with the pilot. "All hands, this is your co-pilot speaking, brace for acceleration."

Tag feels the pull of momentum on her body as the ship lurches forward, wavering a little under the push of invisible force. Nora is stock still, one hand clutching the edge of the co-pilot's chair. The faunus can feel her aura flexing like one big muscle, but slowly like the winding spring on a bear trap. On a chance Tag takes her other hand. "We'll reach him, don't worry."

She quiet, then "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." it's somewhat hesitant, not afraid, just wary.

"I know...you won't kill people. But what about your Guardian?"

Tag's sable brows rise to her hairline and she blinks, her dark irises catching slightly green in the light. "I...I couldn't willingly allow them to take someone's life." she explains after a moment.

Nora nods, still quiet, her brow furrowing a little more. "What if they didn't want kill someone...just hurt them really - _really_ bad."

"Well, I-" the Spring Maiden swallows the little thickness in her throat. She knows what this is about, and a part of her understands and doesn't at the same time. "A Maiden can't be expected to keep an eye on her Guardian _all the time_. In the heat of battle...things can get a little out of control."

Nora turns her head to look at her and Tag softly meets her gaze. The faunus sees pain and anger plain enough, but there's a hint of fear on the fringes, a fear that Tag knows well enough. That's what convinces her to take Nora's hand when she offers it.

 

_(II)_

Jaune knows he's not seeing things. He knows that face damn good and well in spite of the brief second it had been in his field of vision. He knows that face and he knows those eyes and the way they burn through him in person as they had in his nightmares a select few times before. He knows and he's scared out of his mind. What he doesn't know is what's scaring him the most- the fact that Cinder Fall is on the same train as himself a few seats behind him, or that she hasn't made a move against him. Something heavy and sharp and destructive is hanging by a wire over his head and he's just waiting for that wire to snap.

"Maybe she isn't aware you're here, or maybe she just didn't recognize you." Billy says softly. They look half asleep, maybe calmed by the steady rocking of the train as it rolls along the tracks. Maybe still a little under the weather. "We've been riding for a couple hours now, so,"

"I don't want to believe this is random chance." He whispers, unconsciously terrified that if he speaks too loud the other shoe will drop. And he simply isn't ready for that. He could take Grimm no problem, even the hybrid in a pinch, but Cinder Fall with just Billy to help him? On a train full of civilians? In the middle of fucking nowhere? He looks out the window to see the jagged grayness of a wall of excavated rock, on the other side is a sheer drop into the valley below, and swallows heavily.

Not no, but  _hell no_ .

"Either way there's little to do about it until she tries to make a move. If that  _is_ her intent. We don't want to cause a scene, show our hand." They shift noisily in their seat, trying to wedge themselves against the widow to prop their head on the glass, one horn clicking against it. "Maybe she'll get off at the next stop."

It's almost sickening how undisturbed they sound, like this is nothing. Did they just not understand? "But she didn't get off at the last one."

"Clearly that wasn't her destination."

"And the next one?"

"Stop worrying until there's a reason, you'll over stress yourself and that won't do anyone  _any_ good one way or the other." they grumble, crossing their arms and going quiet for a moment. They watch him when he looks away, notice how visibly anxious he is, and shrug. "At the next stop we'll move to another car, see what she does. If she follows us, well, then we'll know something."

Jaune nods with a little blurt of noise, not really a word, and hunkers lower into his seat. "How do you think she found us?"

"Assuming that's the case? Who knows? Perhaps the same way the Lion did. Safe to say the two are somehow connected, perhaps serving the same master, or at least the same purpose."  _Either way I'd prefer it if they meet the same end._ "Maybe, if we're able, we can follow  _her_ wherever she's headed."

" _Just the two of us_ ? Are you  _crazy_ ?"

"I didn't say that." they almost laugh, a soft sound that's drowned out by the distant and shrill exaltation of the train's whistle. The next stop wasn't far now, already the iron wheels under them are whining as the breaks are gingerly applied. "Help is on its way, isn't it? Or did I dream you making that call?"

Jaune nods again in resignation, reminding himself to breathe.  _Everything is going to be okay_ part of his mind assures him, while another part is screaming bloody murder in garbled nonsense because its flat-lining with sheer terror. Then there's a small and quiet region in his mind that's burning, white hot and menacing at the idea that Cinder Fall is perhaps feet away and he isn't the useless wannabe he once was and he should try to make Cinder pay for-  _sure, go get yourself killed, she'd be **super** proud of you-_

The whistle sounds again and the train cars shudder as the engine decelerates, making Jaune jump a little, one hand snapping around the arm of his seat. The entire car is starting to fill up with noise, people standing up, shuffling into the isle, managing bags from overhead racks and talking to each other.

"Be still," Billy cautions, tone low, looking to feign sleep. In truth their eyelids are parted just enough to give them a thin sliver of vision, allowing them to watch the other passengers file by. In the corner of their eye they partly watch as Jaune sinks a little lower in his seat, tucking his chin close to his chest and folding his hands over his stomach. They're quietly proud of his quick adaptation.

Billy watches a woman with dark hair and bright amber eyes stroll right by, not sparing them a wayward glance and likely not even a thought as she does so. A smaller woman stays as close as a shadow just behind her, and the two disappear through the doors to the next car. A pressure in the air they hadn't noticed before lifts, letting them breathe a little easier.

"She's moved on," the Bison straightens, popping their neck with a sharp tilt of their head. "Can't say if she got off here or not,"

"What if she didn't?"

"I'll take a look when we're moving again. I don't believe she's ever seen me before, so it shouldn't make her suspicious. Just relax."

Relax? They'd have better luck asking a fish to climb a tree.

Within the next half hour the train rolls on, gaining speed steadily as it starts along the last leg of the tracks that go through the mountains. Perhaps another hour would go by before the locomotive is down in the valley and in sight of Vale. Billy doesn't get up right away, something that makes Jaune antsy until they finally do stand and make their way to the next car. Their absence only amplifies the feeling, part of him convinced any second now Cinder would walk through that door at the end of the aisle, stroll up to him and kill him out right. Another part of him strangely -stupidly- hopes she does because he has the edge of a blade with her name on it. And he thinks that's easily the most vicious thought he's ever had in his entire life. Kind of scares him a little.

Billy returns looking no less collected than when they left. "She's still here, two cars up."

"So what do we do?"

"I say we put as much distance between us and her as possible and wait it out. If she isn't here for you she shouldn't bother herself with looking for us. Grab your things."

Jaune all but jumps to his feet, glad to be doing something other than sitting on his hands -be it figuratively or otherwise. He snatches his backpack and Crocea Mors from the rack above him, strapping them to his body in their proper places. He can't help but look over his shoulder several times as the two of them move down the isle, passing a few scant remaining passengers before exiting the far end of the car and stepping into the next one. From there they move right on to the next one, just shy of the caboose of the train. Billy stops beside the door they had just stepped through, motioning with one hand for Jaune to move on to the last car.

"I'll keep an eye out, you go on, maybe call your friends again to let them know what's going on."

Jaune nods in acknowledgment and moves on, fishing his scroll out of his pocket as he reaches the end of the last isle and pushes through the door.

\--

Cinder had followed the pull of her focus onto the train, and since she became aware of its close proximity to her, her mind has been buzzing. She has done her best to be patient, waiting and carefully sensing it out with her aura, all the while wondering what it could possibly be and who has it. Thankfully she had been able to discern right away that it wasn't tucked away in the baggage car -that was an endeavor she had been silently hoping not to have to undertake.

It wasn't until the train made its first stop that she was able to hone in on the sensation of her focus, the low but strong heated pulse of the object settled in one of the other cars. Carefully she works her way through the train, making certain her notion of its location was accurate, and finds herself hilariously surprised. That idiot from Beacon,  _he has it_ . She mentally cackles to herself, resisting the incredible urge to let the noise manifest. If nothing else, this seemingly comical twist of fate stood to be entertaining.

Cinder would wait until the train moved on from its last stop before reaching Vale, not wanting to give him opportunity to slip through her fingers. Now that the train was well on its way -now virtually in the middle of nowhere, she moves towards the car where she last saw him. There's only a flicker of surprise on her face when she finds him gone, him  _and_ that uncommonly large faunus he had been sharing his seat with. The idea that the two might stand together against her is fleeting, only so amusing. What on earth could an old oaf and that boy ever do to  _her_ ? Cinder chuckles to herself.

Though, as laughable as all this is, her patience is wearing steadily thinner. She has big plans, appointments to keep, backs to stab, and she wants her focus  _now_ .

She and Neo move from car to car towards the rear of the train.

\--

The whipping air howls around him, it's all he can hear, the windchill cuts savagely through his layers of clothing and is already setting his teeth to chattering together. Jaune carefully navigates to the edge of the platform at the back of the last car, one hand tightly gripping the rail as he puts one foot on the iron steps that lead to nowhere but the blur of the rails below. His gut falls to his knees as he registers the edge of the railway and the horrific drop beyond, though it's steadily getting better as the train rolls into the valley.

He had followed Billy out here, now where did they go? How the hell do you lose a faunus that big?

"Up here," comes a heavy shout from over his head, "take my hand."

Jaune is reaching with his free hand before he tips back his head to look up into Billy's face. How did they get up there so fast?

"What are you doing?"

"Just hold on," they grunt as they pull him up once his gloved hand it secure around their meaty forearm. "Perhaps we'll be lucky and she'll think we jumped."

Icy cold wind slaps him in the face and roars over his ears as he finds his footing and jerks himself all the way up. "Cinder isn't stupid, Billy!"

"I gathered, but I'm willing to bet she thinks  _we are._ " they chuckle to themselves as they kneel on the roof of the car. After a moment they stand up, setting their feet apart to stay stable against the rushing wind. They check the horizon, trying to get there bearings.

Jaune is all but crawling as he tries to stabilize himself, partly disoriented but mostly terrified. This is  _not_ how you ride a train. An embarrassing sort of squeak jumps out of him as Billy's large hand closes in the back of his hoodie and lifts him up before he's ready. He's quietly thankful they keep hold of him as he gets to his feet, a little security he didn't expect to get.

Billy juts their other hand towards the horizon to the south, one finger pointing. "Is that our destination?"

Jaune squints, the bright winter sun in his eyes. "Yeah, I think so." from here it just looks like a jagged edge, a bit of black sprouting out of a landscape washed green and white. "Might be another half hour or so before we get there."

"Are the others on their way?"

"They're coming as fast as they can."

"Let's hope that's fast enough. Come on, let's move to the front and look for a place to hide."

Jaune doesn't know how, but part of him knows they won't reach the head of the train. Knows it in his bones. And gods above, what he would have given to be wrong.

His stomach drops into his feet when he feels an oppressive heat like an unwanted touch against his aura, making him bristle and break into a noticeable sweat beneath his clothes. Billy had to have felt it too as they stopped dead in their track as the pair jump from the caboose to the next car, their arm reaching back to cross his chest to keep him behind them. Something is telling Jaune not to look back - _don't turn your head, stupid, if you don't see it, it won't see you_ \- but he can't help himself. His head swivels to look over his shoulder.  _What did I **just** say?!_

Cinder Fall rises up to the roof of the car like her heels have hinges, her entire form swinging upright and onto her feet as if gravity and the momentum of the train means absolutely nothing. The rushing winds push back on her hair, her winter clothes shuddering around her frame, but she appears otherwise unaffected -the evidence of her sense of ease visible in the comfortable grin she wears.

Jaune can feel his heart hammering behind his ribs and puts his back to Billy's, adrenaline already shooting through him. His thoughts suddenly collide in his head, some of them telling him to retreat and find the nearest hole to hide in, the rest viciously snapping at him, demanding he advance and put a bit of steel through that smoldering bitch's heart. He forces his breathing to level out, become almost mechanical, tamping the fear down and letting cool focus take its place.

"You have something that belongs to me," Cinder calls out as if she's talking to a casual friend, the smile on her lips cutting a little wider as she sees Neo come onto the roof from the other end of the car. "I'll be taking it back."

"Any idea what she's talking about?" Billy just cocks their head a little so their voice will carry, keeping their eyes on the other woman steadily advancing on them, her gait resembling an unhurried stroll. They swear that her irises change color when she blinks, and that's enough to make them reach for their axes.

Jaune just shakes his head, his hand drifting for his sword. His fingers wrap around the handle, his brow knitting tightly as he sees Cinder now smiling wide enough to show teeth, her eyes shimmering with interest. Like she wants him to fight back. And she does - _oh, she does_ \- even though she knows it won't be much of a fight. She chuckles when Jaune draws his sword, momentarily unstable as the air tearing around them pulls on it. She begins to advance, further amused when he grips his weapon with both hands and sets his posture as if he actually knows what he's doing.

_Keep the big one busy, kill them if it suits you,_ Cinder projects to her Guardian,  _I should only need a moment or two_ .

Neo just smiles wickedly across the distance between them.

_\--_

The host is cold and exhausted, but that doesn't stop the Grimm from rousing itself at the awful shock of sharp static sparking across its body. It actually makes a pained noise as its body snaps into a tense curve, tail kinking up and clawed toes curling; it's that boy  _and a Maiden_ . They're close by and moving fast, and the threads still holding it to the Witch are vibrating hard enough to hum in its head. Once aware of itself Manticore scrambles out of the quiet darkness of its new den, out into the forest and to the west, towards the distant sound of a roaring engine and rattling rails. It crests the nearest hill in an instant, disappearing to the other side.

It knows it isn't fast enough to catch a train, but it also knows it doesn't have to be. It just has to get close, and that won't take much effort -that is, if this stupid girl would stop protesting every move it tries to make. When it first spots the locomotive from atop the next hill, through a veil of incredible evergreens, it  _yelps_ at the hard and vicious pull at the back of its brain coupled with a shrill echo in its skull - _**stop, leave him alone** _ **.** It wholly ignores the desperate plea, but for several minutes there is a residual ache like a migraine. Manticore doesn't even know what a migraine is, only that it hurts like hell. The only thing that hurts more is the ringing feedback from the threads demanding it follow through.

Manticore leaps into the trees, claws hooking into bark as it springs from one to another, avoiding wasting precious time by following the hill down into the ravine sitting between it and the tracks that are at the crest of the ridge ahead. Birds scatter and heavy wet snow falls to the ground in sheets as its weight comes and goes through the branches. It pushes a little harder, it can see the train and feel the push of a bright golden aura pushing against its senses.

\--

He's sweating. In spite of the cold air cutting against him he can feel thick droplets of sweat rolling down the back of his neck and down his chest. It feels like every time he blinks there's a fresh flash of fire springing up around him -or in front of him, behind him,  _everywhere_ \- and at the center of it is always Cinder. A smile still cuts across the Fall Maiden's mouth, a playful gesture that only serves to confuse him. He doesn't know that she's just playing with him, seeking some form of entertainment. Still he does his best to stay focused, shocked at himself when he successfully deflects her when she advances.

This is almost fun, Cinder thinks, though the novelty is quickly wearing off. Still she's grinning as she unleashes a volley of blows against him more so with the intent to overwhelm than actually harm him. There would be time for that later. First she needed to find her focus -she's  _positive_ he has it, can feel its heat radiating against her when she draws close enough-  _and then_ she would demolish him at her leisure. A laugh perches in her chest when she considers perhaps making a matching set of the rest of Team JNPR after she's dispatched their leader.

Cinder advances on him again, and again Jaune is shocked at his own reaction. He meets her instead of retreating, he pushes off with his rear leg and exerts a punctuated lunge, leading with his shoulder until it connects with something solid. His brain hiccups, likely from the pure shock, and for a moment he and Cinder just stare at each other with the same face. Then she laughs, her head tipped back, and when she looks at him again her eyes are burning bright enough for him to feel going right through him. As quick as a thought she's advancing again, fire pooling in her hands.

 

Billy didn't want to be drawn too far away from Jaune, and not just because they didn't want their back exposed. They could feel the Fall Maiden's aura against them, finding it easily twice as large and ten times as potent as their own. But they worried for Jaune just as much as for themselves -they know damn good and well he won't last long going toe-to-toe with her. But this small woman with the changing eyes is so quick -almost like she vanishes- and so mobile, she leaves them with little choice but to keep pace less they be overwhelmed. Which would be frighteningly easy if they let it happen; Billy never thought for a moment someone so small could hit so hard so quickly. If they could just get a hand on her.

Neo is having just as much fun as her Maiden if not more so. Part of her loves fighting opponents that are obviously stronger than her, that vastly outweigh her. There's a certain thrill in the danger of one misstep being a potentially fatal mistake, a misstep Neo almost never makes. For the first few tense moments, Neo is just playing with them, using the hook of her parasol to pull at their ankles and knees, setting them off balance and playfully coaxing them away from her Maiden's business. Swinging axes just miss her, the stone edges whistling with force that she slinks away from with a spirit's ease. The massive faunus overcompensates, the edge of one weapon cleaving into the steel panel of the roof, sticking for but a second. More than enough time for Neo to scale the length of their arm and kick off their shoulder, putting her other boot to the Bison's chin as she completes a backwards somersault. When she sticks a graceful landing she quickly moves around the stumbling faunus, inching in behind them and hooking one horn with her parasol. Using the old hunter's unstable base she spins them in a circle several times, effortless, before tossing them to the roof. With a stout dose of aura she hurls Billy over the side, smirking as she catches a glimpse of the horrified shock on their face.

The same instant their body leaves solid ground, Billy pulls their limbs tight to their body and summons their semblance, switching places with Neo. Billy can see the flicker of fear on her face, her irises flashing a pale gray, but it's temporary. With instinctive ease Neo latches onto something with the handle of her parasol, swinging herself back onto the roof as if it were nothing. She winks at Billy, daring them to try again.

 

Cinder can really feel it now, her focus. It's under his clothes somewhere, the bit of her soul trapped inside flaring just as Jaune's aura flares in reaction to her getting too close. These last few moments were spent testing, sussing it out, and now that she had a better idea, she could get to the heart of the matter. Cinder lets him push her back, though she isn't too fond of the little pain that comes from him shoving his boot into her stomach. She shoulders the blow well enough, but it still doesn't suit her. She stumbles a few controlled steps away, eyes fixed on him and glowing like small suns. Cinder raises her arms out to her sides, palms turned outward and fingers fanned apart. There's an audible snap and a tangible pitch in the energy around her, and somewhere among the roar of wind there's the punctuated crash of shattered glass. Every window in every car along the length of the train blasts apart, slivers scattering until Cinder's semblance grabs hold of them and brings them to heel.

Shimmering bits of lethality surround her, their razor like edges all slanted in the same direction as they hover in the air. Jaune visibly swallows, having to consciously force himself not to reach for his shield. Opening it up here, the wind would catch it and hurl him headlong into a storm of glass, like paper through a shredder. Instead he waits, trusting his instincts to alert him to the right second, to react once he feels the sharp heat that pops against his aura. When the countless shards fly towards him his semblance springs into action, a golden hemisphere of light pushing outwards to send the deadly projectiles back the way they came. The genuine, skin-blanching shock on the Fall Maiden's face makes Jaune's brain hiccup again.

Cinder twists away once the mote of panic passes, her jaw clenching at the distinct sound of ripping fabric and the light, almost kissing pressure of glass just missing her ear. With her patience gutted, she turns on him again, her face set in a toothy snarl with a hard knit brow. Her eyes burn almost white hot, the magic roiling in her materializing, and Jaune pales again as he remembers the night within Beacon's vault. Cinder lunges for him, and he forgets how to think.

A hard impact to the chest puts him flat on his back, his teeth painfully snapping together when his head hits steel. Jaune can smell smoke, an acrid jolt to his senses as he looks to find the scorched hand print in the middle of his breastplate in the second before Cinder's boot stomps onto his chest with all her weight behind it. Her other foot settles solidly across the wrist of his sword arm, and it's all he can do to keep his fist clenched.

"Give it to me!" She barks, fresh flames beginning to crackle in her hands. "I know you have it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he shouts back, feeling suddenly stupid for doing so. Stupid, but then suddenly gutsy. "Even if I did, I would've destroyed it long before now!"

She flinches at the unexpected defiance. Her vicious expression collapses into something cold, hauntingly controlled, but still as sharp as ever if not more so. "Then I'll take it myself after I sift through your _scorched bones_!" Cinder shrieks, venomous as the flames in her hands pitch and grow, roaring upward along her arms to her shoulders. The wind pulls on the inferno, drawing it out behind her in a way that resembles wings. An angel of death.

Jaune bites his tongue and pushes with his semblance, just in time for it to catch the brunt of a torrent of fire. Forcing his eyes to stay open he can look up into the parted swath of fire and heat, the inferno opening against the protective shell of his manifesting aura. He can feel the oppressive weight of Cinder's magic pushing back, shutting him in, claustrophobic. His breathing has quickened, he can feel his ribs threatening to collapse -or is he imagining it?

_You're not ready for this -you will_ _**never** _ _be ready for this! Cinder Fall is a_ _**Maiden** _ _, and you're just_ _**you** _ _. Cinder Fall murdered Pyrrha and now she's going to_ _**incinerate you** _ _. You failure -you_ _**fucking failure** _ _\- look what you've gone and screwed up now! And when she's done with you, Ren and Nora are_ _**next** _ _, and you know it!_

_No no no no no,_ _ **not them**_.

Jaune gives it everything he has and pushes outward.

Cinder goes flying through the air with a choked and furious sound, she can't even begin to form one of the countless expletives screeching through her head in disgust and disbelief. She smacks the roof of the train car, solidly bouncing, her body rolling before it hits the edge. She whips out her hand to grip the cold metal railing at the rear of the car, the tips of her boots strumming the tracks beneath her. With a combination of fury and aura, she pulls herself back up. Jaune is already scrambling to his feet and making a break for it.

"Come on, Billy," he calls out, arms and legs pumping against the wind, "we have to get off the train!"

" _Gladly_!" the faunus barks back. It's taking all they've got to keep something resembling a secure hold on Neo, who's thrashing in their grasp like a wet cat with vengeance in mind, because any less than that would likely give her leave to shank Billy with the cruel stiletto she unsheathed from her parasol. Before Jaune can reach them, Neo ekes out a bulls-eye between Billy's legs with an upward swing of her heel. The aged hunter immediately drops her before dropping to their knees, their face all twisted up.

Jaune jumps over them, his long and lanky legs finally coming in handy as he puts himself between Billy and Neo, his sword swinging when he fully realizes that she's armed. Quick reflexes allow her to turn to the inside, moving in congress with his attack and shoving him off balance, making him stumble right by her. Now she's smiling again, glad to get back to her work; she's hoping to at least make the Bison bleed before Cinder reaches them.

The Fall Maiden all but sprints from the caboose to the next car, then the next. In the same instant her boot touches steel again, the train lurches. Gears and wheels scream against the rails, a glittering spray of sparks scattering outward from wherever steel meets steel. Cinder all but falls on her face, in fact everyone on board is jerked off balance by the locomotive's sudden resistance. The engine still works -struggling with a low, gurgling _chug-chug-chug_ , but its momentum has been stripped, leaving it just shy of crawling.

"What the hell is going on!?" Cinder growls, getting to her feet again. She casts a thinned, piercing gaze along the length of the train, looking for anything and everything that might be out of place. Then she spots something coming down from the trees to land heavily on the roof of one of the cars closer to the engine as the train begins to pick up speed again. A grin cuts across her face, and there's a soothing sense of everything having suddenly gone her way. "Ah, reinforcements."

Nice to see Salem's brainless mistake was good for something.

 

 

Author's Note: Had to split this scene into two parts due to time limitations and just being tuckered out. Today begins my hiatus, so I will not be posting any more chapters until after the first couple weeks of May -and that's if everything goes according to plan. Moving day is Monday and I'm looking at no less than three days on the road, so yeah. Thanks to everyone for being so patient and understanding, though I'm more than open to questions or comments, as that's much more feasible at the moment than cranking out another chapter in a timely manner. Catch you all later!

 


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

Jaune felt the familiar, unsettling tug of polarity on his armor and his sword in the same instant the train heaves to a partial stop, and the dull vibrations working through him as well as the train made his stomach drop. He doesn't have to see the hybrid come down from the trees that flank the tracks to know it's coming. Panic is starting to swamp him, but he forces it down, tries to cover it up with focusing on getting him and Billy off the train. He takes a second to get his bearings again, his heart sinking as he spots the tunnel up ahead. But beyond that he knows there is level ground, a drop safe enough for him and Billy to make.

Now if they could just make it that far.

Jaune turns sharply on his heels once his footing is stable again, hurrying to Billy who's still on their knees and at Neo's mercy. With the train not yet up to full speed, he takes the chance of popping his shield open, shouldering the slight pull and adding it to his momentum. Before Neo can thrust her weapon through Billy's chest, Jaune barrels into her, connecting solidly with the small of her back. Billy reacts, almost like they had been ready and waiting for it, snatching Neo by the arm before she can fall too far away. Twisting to their feet they swing the pitifully smaller woman around and then over their head, slamming her to the steel panels of the roof with enough force to cave it in, conforming the metal around her frame. Her bi-colored eyes fly open as the wind is knocked out of her, her jaw working frantically while she chokes.

"That. _Really_. Hurt." Billy growls, panting each word.

"We have to go, the hybrid's-"

They can't let him finish, there's no time. " _Move_!" Billy's big arm sweeps him aside as they bolster their aura against Cinder's renewed assault, silver sparks simmering against a column of fire. They right out shove him away, giving themselves leave to focus solely on Cinder and keeping her back. The Fall Maiden is small and quick, much like her Guardian, but the crucial difference is that Cinder is obviously mad as hell. Furious, even, and it shows in the deep lines around her eyes and the snarl set on her lips exposing every last vicious tooth. It shows in the steadily intensifying fire in her hands. It's the kind of anger that lays the groundwork for mistakes. Mistakes like Cinder coming too close and not backing away quickly enough. Billy swallows a hard and hot fist to the cheek in order to get their arms around Cinder's waist, twisting around before lifting her up and leaning back with all the force they can muster to drop her on her head.

 

Jaune stumbles backwards, arms windmilling to keep his balance before something snatches him by the ankle and pulls. He falls, his back smacking steel, but he bends at the waist and lets the momentum roll him, putting his feet back underneath him. Neo is up again, her once pale face still flushed bright red from catching her breath. She glares at him, bitter and menacing, her hand curling tighter around the stiletto. Jaune's ready when she lunges towards him, leading with the glimmering tip of her weapon.

Neo doesn't fight like Cinder, he finds out. Cinder had been so direct, every blow was delivered with efficiency and intent. In that respect Neo and her Maiden are similar, but Neo's intent was to overwhelm and confuse, force an opening in her opponent's defense that she can worm her way into and pull them apart. She deflects his sword and shield and keeps their quarters close, no wasted movement as she robs him of any swinging power or the ability to put his shield between them. He takes an elbow to the face, his head snapping back painfully. He doubles over Neo's knee in his stomach and then finds himself on his back again as Neo spins on the ball of her foot, hooking her thighs around his neck and twisting with enough force to throw him.

His reflexes are quick enough to alert him to how he's sliding off the edge of the roof, and his body jerks to put him on his belly in time to force Crocea Mors a few inches into the metal panels. His legs are dangling over the edge, his brain suddenly trying to make him remember the time he was hanging out of an airship. Jaune lifts his head, looking up to see Neo's almost gloating, cat-like grin. An expression that tears away into something horrified when she turns her head just in time see the hybrid pounce on her.

 

Cinder felt like throwing up, her brain blank with the sensation of her skull suddenly trying to evict her pelvis and the painful pull of her vertebra threatening to separate. She slumps onto her side and for a moment she's still, ears ringing, neck throbbing, and her knees numb from striking steel. All she can see is a spinning blur of colors that only adds to the wave of nausea she tries to force down. She props herself up on her elbows, trying to pull her legs under her before a heavy fist clutches hard into the collar of her coat and pulls. Cinder forces her focus together as her body leaves the ground, hurled in some unknown direction. She fixes her eyes on the Bison as she tucks her knees and then pushes her heels back, magic and aura flexing together to emerge as loud bursts of fire from the soles of her boots. In a split second she shoots across the yawning space between her and the faunus, finding greater satisfaction in how the older hunter chooses not to try and duck away. They catch each other amidst a heavy collision of auras and a swirl of hot smoke.

Cinder's legs are locked around Billy's chest, the Maiden more or less seated on the swell of their stomach. She snatches both horns in her hands, trying to twist with enough force to snap their neck -it seemed the quickest way- but the Bison is just strong enough, the tendons and muscles connected to their skull popping in thick and powerful relief. Billy weaves their arms under hers, both hands closing around the back of her head before pulling as hard as they can. Cinder can't top the fierce impact of their foreheads coming together with a sickening _crack_ , can't stop the torrent of blood spilling from her nose. She reacts with a palm full of fire, letting the flames spill over them as she tries to pull away. She manages that much, but not until a shattering wave of silver light pushes passed the fire and rips through her senses.

Panting, scorched with smoke rolling off their body, Billy watches the Fall Maiden as she writhes at their feet, hands over her eyes and half muffling her furious and pained cries. For a moment they study her, curious, perhaps suspicious of how long it's taking her to recover. But it's a brief curiosity; Jaune needed them. They take a jogging set of steps, meaning to jump over Cinder's body and be on their way. Their feet leave the ground and they don't see it when Cinder moves, pressing one palm to the metal panels of the roof. They begin to glow white hot in the instant before Billy's feet touch down again, the steel growing soft and breaking apart when the faunus' weight falls against it. Billy drops through the opening, arms up as if to grab hold of something and finding no purchase.

Cinder scrambles to her feet, ignoring the bitter copper in her mouth and the burning in her eyes as she makes for the next car, making certain to blast apart the mechanism keeping the cars connected before moving on. The caboose detaches and immediately loses momentum, steadily falling behind.

 

Jaune pulls himself up, feeling like it took too long and too much effort to do because he's breathless and his knees won't hold him steady. Still he pushes through it, clearing his throat with a heave of air before starting towards the engine. The tunnel is closing in. He could easily get lost in the moments of darkness, and then jump from the train before anyone would know he was gone. Yeah, he could do that, even _he_ couldn't screw that up. With every step he takes he mentally prays louder and louder for the Grimm-hybrid to stay busy and for Cinder Fall to forget he even exists.

Neither prayer will be answered.

A flicker in the corner of his eye draws his attention, and when he turns his head all he can do is think the word _fuck_ as loudly as possible -never mind that it actually manifests in his mouth as the most effeminate shriek he'd ever produced. There was Cinder, flying -fucking _flying_?!- alongside the train, propelled by the flaring cone of fire that appeared to emerge from the soles of her boots. He felt the distinct chill of blood rushing out of his face and he pumped his legs that much harder. As if he could run away from her, from a _Maiden_.

Cinder pushes passed him, judging distance mentally as she angles her feet beneath her to bring herself over the train. The fire dies, her heels smoking as she comes down a few feet ahead of him. She smothers the amusement she tries to feel at his pitiful attempt to attack her, too far gone to be entertained. His blade comes down in a predictable arc, her upper body turning into a thinner profile to let it pass by, to let her smack him in the mouth with the fist that was closest to him. He staggers back but tries again, a more earnest effort but one that yields the same results. She doesn't know why she keeps giving him chances, why she doesn't just kill him. Maybe a part of her is waiting for something to make his murder worth it, something other than simply reclaiming her focus -she abhors wasted effort.

When she's fed up with waiting she sweeps his legs out from under him. Cinder can see it on his face, the uncertainty and a resistance to the urge to get up; he's weighing his options, likely certain each one will leave him dead. She glares at him, waits for his timid and strangely innocent eyes to meet hers, and then her once neutral face hardens. If only he had a _fraction_ of the guts Nikos did, this might have actually been fun. Infernal light flares in her eyes and she raises a hand towards him, still unamused when he raises his shield in preparation for what's coming.

 

Manticore lost track of the shapeshifter and only marginally cared. She disappeared between the cars somewhere and the hybrid wasn't about to bother itself with sniffing out the little trail of blood she left behind. The still intact threads were thrumming loudly in its head, almost in warning, as the magic was pulling its attention elsewhere. It sets its eyes on the Fall Maiden and breaks into a full sprint, on two legs instead of all fours due to the steel stiletto buried to the hilt through one shoulder. It leaps across two, three, four cars, the Grimm only partly curious as to why the Fall Maiden seems to ignore its approach.

As it draws closer it can't ignore the strange buzz across the threads inside of it, an abnormal agreement between it and its host. _**Stop her**_. It's the first time the two aren't at odds with each other. It's also the first time Manticore feels something it doesn't immediately hate; satisfaction. Maybe even happiness. Whatever it is, it's something positive stirred by the shock visible on the Maiden's face as the hybrid completely ignores the prone huntsman and leaps for her, all teeth and claws.

Jaune waits behind his shield, anxious for the fire to spill over him again, for the blistering heat, but it never comes. Shaking a little he peeks over the lip of his shield, dropping the barrier completely when he comprehends what just happened. The hybrid...it was fighting Cinder? It turned on her? But... wait, _what_?! He eases to his feet, staying crouched low against the wind, shield tucked to his shoulder in taut wariness, and he continues to watch.

Fire meets fire, sparks cracking against each other at every hot collision. Cinder focuses her aura on her arms and hands to keep the hybrid's claws from tearing through to her flesh. She catches the incoming whip of its still-neutered tail in the corner of her eye, dropping to a crouch to avoid it. She tries to destabilize it with a swing of her leg to its knees, Manticore reacting with equal precision and a backwards somersault. The hybrid springs upward from a low squat and wraps around Cinder's body, one hand at the Maiden's throat and the other rising upward before coming down in a snapping blow to the face.

Jaune tenses. _Oh my god, it hit her. Cinder is bleeding._ _ **Cinder Fall is**_ _**bleeding**_.

Cinder's fury doubles at the raking pain and the scalding wave of blood rolling down her neck, her face twisting into a vicious and toothy grimace that matches the Grimm's. She blocks another swipe with her arm as she reaches up, gripping the blood-slick handle of the stiletto and yanking it free with a crimson ribbon in its wake. It doesn't serve to dissuade Manticore as much as she would like, so she follows through with jamming the spike through the hybrid's side -once, twice, and then a final time through its thigh.

Manticore tightens its legs around Cinder's ribs and bends sharply at the waist, flipping backwards with enough force to throw her. She bounces, eventually smacking into Jaune's still ready shield, her head snapping back to meet steel. The Fall Maiden teeters as she gets to her feet again, face beet red with blood and fury. Her eyes burn bright, menacing and thin as she glares at the hybrid. Manticore crouches on all fours, face tightened around a drawn out hiss.

"I'm on your side, you stupid beast!" she grinds out.

Not from where the Grimm stands. Manticore has higher orders and they echo in its head: _...Destroy anyone who gets in your way. And I mean_ _ **anyone**_ _._ Anyone, including the Fall Maiden. Manticore snaps its teeth with a shower of sparks and coils of smoke, its body bunching in preparation for another attack.

Cinder can read its intent, and it only serves to anger her further. When the Grimm lurches towards her, she calls fire to her hands. " _You miserable sack of ashes_!" But before she can take the first step in her own assault, she stops, stumbling to her knees as a staggering, burning pain rakes its way up her back. The color and fury leaves her face as she chokes on a reigned in scream, her eyes wide and blank as she braces herself with one hand. Somehow she knows what just happened, but she can't believe it. She just can't believe it. _That idiot_ _ **boy**_...

 _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god_ \- Jaune's mind is buzzing over and over, his body frozen in place as he tries to fully process what he's just done. He hit Cinder. He didn't just hit her, he sliced her open with one surprisingly certain upward swing of his sword, the action brought about by a sudden moment of courage -or stupidity. Jaune stares at his weapon, shocked the see the brilliant red rivulets pulled to the edge by the wind. Then he lifts his widened eyes to Cinder, tensing at the bright crimson stripe that cuts diagonally from her waist to her shoulder between the split layers of her clothes. He drew blood. Jaune Arc made Cinder Fall _bleed_. But he doesn't have the time to fully accept it.

Manticore must have no longer considered the Fall Maiden a threat now that she was on her knees, and therefore ignored her completely as it strode across the roof of the car and made a direct line towards him. Without meaning to he twists away, the hybrid leaping right passed him and headlong into the space between the cars. He doesn't waste another second and pushes on, now having only seconds before the train moves into the tunnel. Jaune jumps down just as the darkness swallows everything, clutching for all he's got to the cold metal rungs of a ladder.

Cinder hears the roar of the train through the tunnel, the rebounding ruckus of echos that rattle her senses. The glow of her own eyes is cutting the impossible black, molten gold outlining the shapes of her bloodied hands and the thick crimson droplets gathering beneath her. Her mind is _boiling_ ; she can't remember when she had ever been so _infuriated_. It's withering her usually stalwart self control, tossing it to the wind like an offering of ashes. _I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking obliterate him. I will destroy him so utterly his_ _ **mother**_ _is going to feel it!_

The tunnel yawns open and the riot of sound dissipates. Cinder stands up in a snap of motion, barely fazed by the pull of the wind or the pain she's using to drive herself. Her eyes cut from one end of the train to the other, her head and body turning to see every direction. Where did that little bastard go? Her aura pulses in search of her focus...finding nothing. She can feel the rage twisting her insides, and it just doubles over as she turns to look back towards the tunnel, just in time to catch sight of the unmarked airship -though she knew it was Atelsian just by looking at it- pulling into view. Almost immediately she can sense the presence of another Maiden, and that only serves to stoke her temper that much hotter.

"Gods _damn it_! Gods damn it all!" Cinder shrieks. Without hesitation she throws her hands towards the craft, fire and brimstone and solid light blasting from her fingertips.

The ship pitches, drifting out of the line of fire before doubling back. A hatch in its metallic side slides open and Cinder sees three figures jump out of it and onto the train from the corner of her eye. It's Qrow, a boy with long black hair, and some ginger headed girl in a ridiculous pink skirt. She'll ignore them long enough to watch the ship accelerate towards the head of the train, likely with the intent to slow it down again.

By the time she turns back towards the other hunters, she realizes much too late that the ginger is all but on top of her and swinging a massive hammer that she can't think fast enough to stop.

\--

Jaune has to force himself to open his eyes. He knew the train had cleared the tunnel, acknowledged the drastic change of the chaotic noise around him, but part of him just couldn't bear to look and see what might be going on. _You'll see Cinder and she'll kill you_. Like a little boy hiding under the blankets from the flame-spitting monster beneath his bed.

When his eye lids finally pull apart he does his best to focus through the coffin-sized confinement of the space he's holed up in and out into the snowy valley the train is rolling through. Snow and trees and patches of exposed grass speed by in a blur. Limb by limb he unhooks himself from the ladder, steadying himself on the precarious coupling mechanism that holds the cars together until he can navigate to the edge. He cautiously pokes out his head, looking down one end of the train to the other. No sign of Cinder or her companion or the hybrid. If there was a perfect time to jump for it, it's now. A deep breath perches in his chest as he tucks away his shield and sword, and he readies his semblance as he leans back. Jaune's praying again, this time for a landing that -at the very least- won't kill him.

The powers that be decide to throw him a bone.

The fall isn't an easy one, but it doesn't injure him. His semblance blossoms around him to cushion most of the impact, but he still feels the earth come up under him like a truck. He bounces, and rolls for an unknown but seemingly measureless distance until he finally slumps to a stop, his face wet with snow. In spite of the whole world spinning he stumbles to his feet, having to perch on all fours for a moment so he doesn't puke. Jaune lifts his head, blinking the dizziness away and focusing on the passing train and the large gray blur that keeps pace with it. Is that...that was an airship! It feels like a house falling off his back -gods, what a relief!

A relief that's aborted as quickly as it comes into being. He spots the hybrid leaping from the tail of the train before it disappears behind a wall of trees, then his brain begins screaming _fuck_ again, though not as loudly. And he finds a little more courage when he spots the whitened mass of a bison jumping off the tracks and barreling across the snow after the Grimm. _I can do this. I can make it. I can hold out._

Jaune draws his sword and opens his shield, ready.

Manticore can feel its host resisting again, but not as hard as she could. She's exhausted already, having never fully recovered from the encounter with the faunus Witch. But she still cries, still she tugs on the thickest thread between them, demanding it stop -that it do anything other than what it intends to do. However the demands of the Witch beyond the mirror is more potent than her feeble begging, _always_ more potent. It _has_ to kill the boy. It has to kill _all_ of Ozpin's children, and then maybe the Witch would set it free, let it have its true body back.

Sprinting through the snow it can feel the older faunus gaining on it, can feel the dull crackle of silver magic against its senses like a warning. When it gets too close, Manticore rips the stiletto from its leg, turning the point downward before springing upward into a swift, whipping rotation of its whole body, trying to catch the hunter by surprise. In the same instant Billy is transforming, their silhouette lost in a platinum blur for all of a second before they emerge to wrap their meaty arms around the hybrid's waist and tear it to the ground. Stuck on its back, Manticore tries again, its wrist caught in one of Billy's hands, trying to push through until the faunus squeezes so hard it has no choice but to let go. The host can only take so much more damage. But it keeps fighting, keeps resisting, still having three free limbs to push back with. It starts by coiling its tail around Billy's throat.

Billy doesn't let go of the hybrid's wrist, but tenses their neck as hard as they can to keep it from cutting off their airway. They can feel the pain blossoming again, the same pain they felt over the Solstice, yet now it's bigger. It's heavy, thick, and working down into their chest and arm like a hot iron stake. The pounding of their heart suddenly feels...wrong, like something outside of the usual. But they push through, they finally have this walking abomination right where they want it, and they knew Jaune would never get close enough in time to stop them from destroying it.

The faunus reaches deep down, beyond their semblance, and takes a hold of their magic, their silver eyes flaring a bright, solid white. Manticore snarls, fighting harder, but not hard enough to break loose of Billy's grip. They push the magic to manifest in their free hand, their palm beginning to glow as the pain spikes hotly. They force their hand down, the contact of their palm to the Grimm's body creating a flash and bang of magic and splintered armor.

The manifestation of magic splits Manticore and Billy apart, more like hurls them, the two soaring through the air in different directions. After a brief, tense moment, Manticore begins moving again, whereas Billy does not.

From where he stands, Jaune can't help but pause, momentarily unsure what to do. The hybrid will make his choice for him once it gets on all fours and tries to move towards him. Though it's clearly lost some of its mobility, obviously weakened. A chunk of the breastplate is missing now, a bright red and scorched hand print left on the skin. Right beside it is another marking, thick like a scar and pitch black with a dull orange glow at its center. He wonders if that's a weak spot.

 _It hurts_ , Manticore's mind pulses with pain, hot mercury burning through its host's nerves. _It hurts, it hurts so bad -_ _ **please stop I can't take any more it's too much.**_ It can feel that a great cluster of the threads have snapped and disintegrated, those that remained having gone still of the hum that kept it on task. Never mind that, though, it still had the desire to kill the boy. To tear his eyes out. It had to do it, maybe that would make the pain go away. _But it_ _ **hurts**_...

It hurts but it can't stop. Not yet. Not when it's so close, when its prey appears to be walking into its waiting jaws like a lost lamb. Which is best seeing as even simple movements feel like trying to pull against the world. To conserve some of its remaining strength, Manticore hunkers down, waits, its body tensing slowly like a coiling spring. Once he's close enough, once it's certain it can't miss, it would go for the throat.

Its fixed, toothy grimace falters once it realizes the huntsman has stopped again, his eyes no longer set on it but to something above them that roars as it draws closer to the ground, kicking up sharp currents of air. Then Manticore feels and bristles at the pressure of another Maiden's aura, and with it, a sense of worry. This is quickly becoming too much, the host won't be able to handle this -the girl is already on the verge of collapse from blood loss and its very skin feels fragile with the residual heat of silver energy. It was going to die if it stayed, and it _refused_ to die in this frail body.

Somehow Jaune knows what it's thinking, knows it means to make a break for it though he doesn't know how he knows. Maybe it's the way it keeps cutting its gaze from him, looking one way and then the other for an escape route, or how it shies away from the shadow of the descending airship with a hiss. Regardless, he knows it's going to run and knows he can't let it. He has to stop the hybrid before it can disappear, he's got to try and save whatever is left of the human that could still be in there somewhere.

He reacts when Manticore springs into a frantic sprint, more so his semblance reacts, and his aura manifests as a hemisphere of golden light that expands and expands until it circles around both him and the Grimm. It looks - _feels_ \- more solid than it usually does, like it has tangible substance, the notion only reinforced when Manticore runs headlong into it, crumpling and slumping to the snow after a resounding _THUD_ that makes the barrier of light shudder. When he realizes its stunned -really _floored_ \- he moves again, stupidly throwing down his sword and shield before running towards it.

 

Tag had been able to pick up on Jaune's massive aura and helped guide the pilot to it. Before they can even land Tag is running for the access hatch of the ship, haphazardly slapping the control panel until it slides open -Specialist Holiday _tried_ to tell her the button to press, but this was quicker. She jumps from the ship just behind Tag, finding the faunus quickly and decidedly outrunning her once they hit the snowy ground.

"Check on Billy and tell the other ship to come this way," Tag calls out over her shoulder, because she can't worry about her Guardian right now, as desperately as she wants to. Seeing them lying so still is terrifying, but it just isn't the time. She doesn't slow as she reaches the outer rim of the bubble of light, expecting to run right through it, the shock plain as day on her face when she collides with it instead. For a brief moment she wobbles, holding her hurting nose with one hand as she comes back to center. Her other hand touches the manifestation, partly confused and partly impressed. "Jaune,"

"Kind of busy," he barks back, trying his best corral the hybrid without it biting off his fingers. He isn't even sure who's calling his name.

"It's Tag, _let me in_!" she goes so far as to pound her fist against it, her own aura sparking bright green.

"I don't know how," he twists, lifting his foot as Manticore's tail tries to hook around it, putting his boot down hard to trap it. "My semblance has never done this before."

Tag bites back a curse as she takes a step back. " _Try_!"

Doesn't she know he can't just split his focus like that? Jaune tucks his lip between his teeth and gives it his best shot, thinking as loud as he can for his aura to _pull_ instead of push. He feels the barrier collapse around him, retracting almost too fast and too hard, knocking him on his ass. But he keeps a hold on the hybrid even as he stumbles, finally - _finally_ \- managing the squirming Grimm into his best impression of a headlock that Billy only took the time to show him twice. It kept the creature in place and that was the important part.

Tag wastes no time, crossing the space between them in a handful of long and steady strides. She slides a little on the snow, crouching down. "Keep it still," she pants.

"Please be quick." because he honestly doesn't know how long he can hold it.

Tag has to recoil when she first tries to touch it, bracing with her arms as Manticore tries to kick at her. The blow is hard enough to almost knock her over, but the faunus stabilizes with her tail. With one quick movement she puts her hands on the Grimm, unconsciously smoothing one palm over the black mark in the middle of its chest and the other over one side of its face, the pad of her thumb on its temple. The hybrid slowly stills, only unconsciously resisting as the Spring Maiden's eyes start to glow a brilliant, lively green. A moment more and all movement stops, the caustic shimmer of the hybrid's eyes dimming to match Tag's -just like Jaune's suddenly began to do.

 _Don't hide from me,_ her mind pulses along the first, thinnest tethers between them, _please, I'm here to help._

_Tag...Tag, what's happening?_

_Jaune? What-_

The connection fully forms, opening them up to a deluge of thoughts, memories, and pain. Most of all, pain. The pain swallows everything and pulls it together, crushing it into a teeming, seething cluster of visions and noise. From Tag's end it feels like her aura is ripping through her veins, and something is desperately trying to both draw her in and force her out. She can't make sense of the chaotic din knocking around inside her head, can't find the cohesion between the flooding images. But she knows the pain, she knows that universal language as if it's her mother tongue.

Jaune is fairing no better, experiencing the same vicious dichotomy of repulsion and demand, the same maelstrom of noise. Nothing makes sense, only the awful sensation of talons raking the back of his brain.

And at the center of it all is the ripping, shattering chorus of a roaring lion and a girl screaming in agony.

Tag does her best, gives everything she has in spite of how much it hurts, to focus on the girl. She has to be certain there's still someone here, someone that she can save -never mind that she has no idea how. She keeps pushing down into the havoc of magic and darkness and a nest of pulsing crimson threads, pushing the vibrant life of her own magic to forge a path to reach whoever is here. She has to reach them, they're crying for help and she has to do _something._ Just a little further down - _please, please, let me find her..._

\--

The second ship comes in from the south, skimming the tops of the trees at most certainly unsafe speeds as it approaches to make a rushed landing. Glynda Goodwitch is now on board, half hanging out of the open hatch in its side and jumping down once its close enough for her to safely do so. Team RWBY follows close behind. Qrow had called ahead to alert her of the situation, which had her rushing out of her manor in her usual lounge clothes and the closest pair of boots she could get her hands on. She had been on edge since before her scroll chimed, but Qrow's hurried delivery made it ten times worse. And even without that, the heavy saturation of magic in the air sets every last hair on her body to bristle.

Glynda takes in as much of the scene as she can as she sprints across the snow, riding crop clutched in one fist, following a _modus operandi_ years in the making to ensure quick and effective action. She remembers hearing confirmation of Cinder Fall's presence, but sees no trace of her here -something she is quietly thankful for, and with no Grimm present aside from what she could assume is the hybrid, she chooses to focus on that. Now her brain is trying to suss out where the magic is coming from and who it belongs to and why it feels all jumbled together. Two out of three of those things she manages with no trouble. As for the third, there simply isn't enough time.

A dead heat creeps across Glynda's body, the energy in the air pitching against her and making her stomach flip. Something in the back of her hardened, huntress' brain is screaming, raising the reddest of red flags in warning of something the rest of her simply won't acknowledge. Her brow thickens, eyes thinning behind her glasses as the snow lights up, dark crimson cutting through the white and surrounding Jaune, Tag, and the hybrid. She can't make out the shape of it, but part of her doesn't have to. Part of her already knows what's happening.

"Miss Rose, Miss Schnee," she calls over her shoulder, expecting them to be listening, which they are. "The two of you are much faster; I need you to separate them so I can cancel the sigil. We only have a few seconds before it activates." Though there's a chance they have even less than that.

Weiss and Ruby look at each other with a curt nod, join hands, and then disappear into a flurry of osiria petals and a crimson spiral. Just as quickly the two split apart and rematerialize within the border of the sigil, its haunting light pitching brighter at their presence. Without hesitation Ruby tucks her arms around Jaune and twists away, while Weiss manages one of Tag's arms across the back of her neck after a bit of effort to do the same. The magic in the air audibly snaps, something invisible coming undone, and the seal in the snow stirs. Manticore lies still at the center of it.

Glynda knows she has waited too long, but she pulls up the magic anyway. With one hard, horizontal swing of the riding crop, a crescent of jade light forms in the air and cuts towards the crimson seal. The two energies collide, a wave of pressure washing across the ground and over everyone present. The hulls of the airships groan under the surge. Crimson and jade wax and wane, warp and pull apart only to rejoin; the seal blurs, spinning madly in an attempt to complete itself, and then offers up a violent shudder before giving way to a bright flash. For all of a second everything is hot and oppressive, everyone stopping and flinching away from it as the light washes over them. After it passes, looking around they find the snow is gone, the stunted grasses beneath dry and faintly green. The trees surrounding them are free of snow too, like winter simply disappeared, just like the crimson seal had disappeared, just like Manticore. There's no trace of it anywhere.

Glynda's face tightens further as she scans the scene, pushing her fingers roughly across her scalp with a restrained growl. Damn it, damn it, damn it. That could have gone better. If there had been more time... _damn it_. Still scowling she begins to walk, there's no obvious need to hurry. And now her head is filling up with a list of things to do; she needs to contact Qrow, needs to get all of them back to the manor before the authorities start looking into this, Ironwood will be expecting some sort of word to be sure. She needs to sort out the myriad of questions she means to ask and prep cover stories -the list just keeps growing and growing. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Blake and Yang go to Ruby's side, Ruby's shaking Jaune in an attempt to bring him back to himself. His eyes are open but the irises are blown wide, unfocused and still faintly green. His nose is bleeding terribly. Tag is stirring sluggishly, just barely there as Weiss tries to help her along. The faunus' nose is bleeding too and she's obviously confused. Billy still hasn't moved and Specialist Holiday shouts for a medic. Glynda walks into the space where the glowing sigil had been and feels a sharp charge of something awful race up her spine. Awful and...gods be damned, familiar.

There's no mistaking it. Glynda senses Salem on her skin like one feels a dense fog -heavy, cold, and wholly unsettling.

 

Beyond the mirror, Salem clutches her chest, having collapsed, and is struggling to breathe as blood courses thick and dark from her eyes, nose and mouth. The pain is so great that for the first time in nearly twenty years, she feels herself and not the darkness inside of her. Just down the jagged stone corridor, having heard the commotion Ozpin paces his cell -not as simple as he hoped without his cane. He's restless, knowing something rather incredible is going on but, for once, he doesn't know exactly what.

 

_(II)_

The hybrid is laying on its face in the mud, it's wet all over, but it isn't cold any longer. There's a heavy heat in the air and in the rain, permeating everything. Carefully, so carefully, it starts to move, stiffly flexing the fingers in one hand.

It smells the rain. Pyrrha can smell it too.

The nest of threads has been shredded, the Grimm knows it. Feels it. Feels it like one feels disease in their body, secretly aware. It hurts, feels like the host's brain has been run through a horrible, grinding machine and spat out, leaving the two of them connected by only the barest ligaments of magic. Manticore knows it needs to withdraw, to hibernate and restore itself, but also knows to do so too soon would mean a sleeping death.

Its body trembles as it pushes up on its arms, eventually on its hands and knees in the mud. Its head hangs, the mess of red hair slumping from its back into the water. Blood oozes down its body and into the muck, crimson and brown. More drips from its nose, and when its eyes open it watches the droplets splash among the raindrops.

Pyrrha watches her own blood. She and the Grimm are seeing the same thing, watching their joint life ebbing away a heartbeat at a time. Pain has washed her thoughts and most of her awareness away into a wave of white noise, so she is only marginally aware of what's happening, aware that she's even aware. It's been so long...

The wounds in her side flinch reflexively, seeming to center everything with a sharp tug that manifests as an even sharper intake of breath through her teeth. Her body tightens on it, folding and throwing her unsteady self off balance to half fall back into the mud. Bracing on one hand she sits in it, clutching her side with the other as more of her senses creep into focus. Her skin feels raw, too tight and full of holes. Her blood feels scalding hot against her hand, perhaps her brain simply unaccustomed to the sensation. A pitiful whimper crackles out of her throat which feels dry and fragile, like her vocal cords. She tries to lift her head but can't, it's too damn heavy -her hair is too fucking heavy with water and mud and blood and months of not being groomed. A part of her mind sparks with self-digust -how the hell did she let herself go like this?

Another jagged whimper as she tries to move, inching along through the mud towards...she doesn't know. Her blurred vision fixates on what appear to be trees -she hopes they're trees. Some tired little instinct is telling her to get out of the rain and her frail consciousness is grabbing onto whatever it can to stay afloat.

_...dying..._

_**I know.**_

Her side pinches again and she winces, her teeth pressing tight enough together to make her molars creak, to make her notice how her teeth don't fit in her mouth like they used to. Her canines aren't right. She continues pulling herself along, fighting the pain, ignoring the burning tears that she can't see are pitch black. She feels the roughness of wet tree bark -is it tree bark?- before her eyes process the sight of it.

_...I...dying..._

_**Die then.**_

_I die...we die..._

_**Die then** _. Her thoughts echo a little louder. At this point she just couldn't care, everything hurts too much to care.

_Not...want...die...want...live..._

Carefully, grimacing hard all the way, Pyrrha props herself against the tree, almost in a sitting position. Her body settles heavily against the trunk, scraping, sending a shock across her nerve endings. She gasps for air, mouth open to take in as much as possible, and now both hands are at the puncture wound in her side.

_...Witch...thread...severed..._

She's only partly certain of what it means, busying herself with trying to see the hole in her side instead of deciphering the thought that isn't hers. Pyrrha has to blink through the dark mist of tears to see, first fixated on her hand which she immediately believes shouldn't be attached to her. It doesn't look like hers - _this isn't mine, it's not my hand, this isn't my body, what happened to me-_ but the bright redness of blood on her fingertips, her _claws_ , somehow hones her focus, bringing her straying and frayed thoughts back together.

The wound isn't as bad as it feels, looking to be a pair of superficial lacerations than gut deep punctures. But her injured thigh, which she remembers with a white hot pulse that's bone deep, is another story. Her back straightens against the tree, her face twisted up. Pyrrha shudders with a cough, redness spilling passed her lips and down her chin.

_...Want...live..._

_**Shut up. Please shut up.** _

The Old One just continues to whimper at the back of her mind, pleading. It's trying to send out its distress signal, calling out to lesser Grimm, but the energy sputters and dissipates, because Pyrrha knows what it's doing and knows this needs to end. Even if she can't come out of this alive, this has to stop.

_No...live...please...live..._

One solid charge of Manticore's energy kicks out of her and across the ground, Pyrrha tensing from head to toe and biting back a choked scream as more tears roll down her face. _**Stop, it's too much.** _

_Be...better again..._

Then another, a wave of darkness that she can actually see, coupled with another body-wide spasm. She can't make it stop, so something reflexive in her makes her stop trying, makes her focus on taking her next breath instead. What thoughts are her own dissolve into the most basic considerations -breathe, put pressure on the wound, don't think about the pain- instinctive fail safes meant to keep the brain from shorting out and to stave off needless panic. Because a part of her wanted to panic, a part of her wanted to scream for help even though she knew there would be no answer. The same part that knows she can't stop the Old One from calling out to its kin. Something on the fringes of her awareness can feel them responding, dozens of little flickers of _others_ scattering through her mind like hot sparks.

 _ **Please...please, I'm so tired.**_ She's crying, audibly sobbing, the first time she's heard her own voice outside of her head in...who knows how long, but she barely recognizes it.

_No tired...I...fix..._

_**No, no, no fix.**_ Pyrrha is physically shaking her head and a scrap of her hopes that thinking on its level might help convince it to stop.

_I. Fix._

_**It hurts.** _

_Hurt you...not me...I fix..._

Pyrrha blinks through the tears, blinks the blurred shapes in her vision clear, and feels her face tighten into a weak snarl when she makes out a black cluster among the green and brown of the unfamiliar, vine choked trees and the mist of rain. _**I'll fight. So help me, I'll keep fighting.**_ Because she's Pyrrha Nikos - _ **that's still my name, isn't it?**_ \- and, by gods, she _fights_.

_You fight...I fix..._

 

 

Author's Note: That was a lot. It certainly felt like a lot, and here's hoping no one was overwhelmed. Next couple chapters will likely be a lot of dialogue and lore dumping, which after that deluge of narrative, I'm sure some of you won't mind it. God, these poor kids, what have I done? Always up for discussion and welcome any questions you might have. Also I have no idea when the next chapter will be up, so please bear with me. See you next chapter!

 


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

Cinder wakes with an audible start into a wave of pain that radiates from her face to her back to her legs and back again. Consciousness comes in a blinking, vicious instant that makes her body bow tightly as she snatches a lung-filling gasp of air. Her eyes are screwed shut, but behind the lids they're gleaming with confounded rage. She doesn't know where she is, how long she's been out, or how the hell she came to be half naked -the latest of which she discovers as she pushes onto her hands and knees, feeling cool air on her bare and livid skin. She doesn't know that Neo is there, in a chair just beside the cot she's laying in, recoiling in fear. And she hasn't the slightest fucking idea why the flesh between her shoulders feels like it's been laced together so tightly that it's about to split open -like her skull feels on the verge of doing.

All she's entirely certain of is the pain and fury.

Cinder breathes feverishly through an open snarl, brow furrowed and pulling little droplets of sweat down into the hard lines. Her entire body throbs like an infected wound -hot and tender- and when she feels the slightest pressure of Neo's hand on her, she swings an arm to shoo her away, not caring whether or not she hit her. A little jerk and a bark of discomfort when Neo's hand closes around her wrist, stopping Cinder's knuckle inches from her Guardian's bruised face. Now the Fall Maiden opens her eyes and cuts her gaze to the smaller woman, still panting, all her teeth visible as she glares. Neo's expression seems neutral, then again that could just be what's left of the swelling, and she keeps a firm grip on Cinder as she slowly reaches with her other hand. With two fingers she finds Cinder's sternum and taps it twice, waits a few seconds and then taps it again. Her way of saying _be still_.

Cinder jerks her hand away and begins to move slowly, stiffly, until she's sitting on her backside with her legs bent over the metal frame of the cot. Her shoulders and head hang as she continues her heavy breathing, as if they weigh just too damn much to stand. Her legs below the knee are pulsing so painfully that it's almost choking, but now that she's awake her aura is starting to work on them -had they been broken? She can't remember. Without thinking she swats Neo's hand away again, an audible _smack_ making the faintest echo.

She's able to look around when her Guardian commandingly tips her chin with one curled finger, her dimly lit eyes moving to and fro in the sockets as Neo cleans her bloody face with a damp cloth. It looks like one of the old safe houses in Vale, steel and concrete meant to keep others out and the bare essentials in. But, just to be sure, she asks simply with a mention of the city's name. Neo just nods and continues with her task. Cinder's gaze drops back to Neo, to the smooth and round lines of her face where she spies what look like the tracks of claw marks across her throat -scars left behind in her aura's frantic rush to close the wounds.

When she's finished, Neo begins signing, telling Cinder about the stitches. For a split second her mind doesn't process beyond that, beyond finally having an explanation for the excruciating tightness between her shoulder blades. But then something clicks and the energy in the space pitches, becomes heated. _Now_ she remembers. She remembers the beckoning burn of her hidden focus, the certainty that she was seconds away from claiming it from that _gutless idiot bastard_ . She remembers her own disgusted shock of how hard he fought back, a gut wrenching sensation that only doubled - _tripled_ \- when she realized Salem's pet project had turned on her.

Cinder's face tightens. _Stupid. Fucking. Brainless_. The list goes on.

And that's just the beginning.

She can't even put words to how watching everything fall apart had made her feel. It just filled her with an instinctive desire to burn _everything_ , something she hadn't felt since she was younger -a time when the whole world had been nothing but beatings and screaming and desperation. A time when, as the misery peaked and her younger self could take no more, she had incinerated three remote Mistrali towns in some form of wild retribution. Not that she felt remorse over it, only that she had swore to herself never to lose control like that again -if for no other reason than to preserve her own dignity.

 _Burn burn burn burn_ _**burn burn Burn BURN BURN BURN** _

Cinder shakes her head, swallowing it all down and squelching it in the pit of her stomach. It takes a moment, giving her time to reconsider razing Vale to the ground just for kicks -just because she could and no one could really stop her. Eventually she takes a deep breath, straightening and exhaling between her parted lips -deflating as she regains her composure and the smoldering glow in her eyes dims further.

"Do you know where they went after getting off the train?" she asks softly, unsettlingly so.

Neo doesn't nod or shake her head, just raises one hand, her palm towards the ground, and wiggles it in the air. _Sort of._

"I want you to find out where they are," Cinder continues on another, steadier exhale. Neo nods this time. "Inform me the minute you know."

Another nod, one that Cinder returns, then her simmering thoughts descend back into the anger, albeit gently. She needs to remember what happened, she needed to know how and when everything went wrong. She's fairly certain it wasn't because the boy had support. No, it couldn't have been that -in a one-on-one fight she could have easily taken the aged faunus if she had every intent to kill them. They had years of experience on her, but not her sheer power or the ability to stand up to it. It wasn't the inconvenience of a moving train, and she refused to believe it had been because the boy fought back. Simply _refused_.

No. She could have killed him. She had _meant_ to kill him and would have loved every second of it. But that twisted pile of grave dirt got in her way. _Miserable sack of ashes,_ her brain hisses, the moment playing back in her mind frame by frame like film. Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth, jaw steadily clenching around it as her eyes scan the room again. Her coat is on the floor and she eyes it bitterly, knowing the small mirror she always carries is tucked away in it. Without a second thought she gets to her feet, meaning to retrieve the coat and not expecting to fall flat on her face as her still injured legs give out from under her with a ripping spike of pain.

Neo dares not laugh as the Fall Maiden hits the concrete with the most undignified noise. She covers her mouth, covers the makings of her usually sadistic grin. She won't even turn her head.

Cinder growls in her chest, the fury refreshed alongside the memory of the worst beating of her life, and her fists ball up before defiantly smacking the cement. She pushes upward and crawls -fucking _crawls_ \- across the floor, face set in a vicious half snarl as she retrieves her coat, cursing to herself as she fights to find the pocket. She finally manages it out of its hiding place, rubbing a stray smudge from the glass with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. Face still tight with rage she starts forcing traces of her magic into it, the relic in her palm beginning to glow with heat -a manifestation of the force and intent she's projecting through the object. _That old bitch better be-_

The thought pauses as she feels the faintest flicker of magic through the ether, a spark that she recognizes as Salem's but finds hard to accept as such. It feels so...weak. It isn't until she can see the Witch's face in the mirror -see the traces of blood around her pale lips- that she resigns to the fact. And for a moment they just stare through the glass at each other, quietly seething, glowering at one another in their own way for their own reasons.

" _Well_?" Salem finally breaks the stalemate, her voice broken and waterlogged. "Do you have a corpse to show me or not?"

For a brief, sputtering second, Cinder has no response and can feel her features flicker with mild confusion. Then her thoughts come back to center in a quicksilver instant. "I _would_...if your tainted lap cat hadn't gotten in my way."

Salem is stock still save for a single sable brow that lifts.

"I thought you put that bitch back together to _help_ me kill Maidens,"

Now the Witch scowls. "What happened?"

Cinder swallows, quickly mixing lies and truths together in her head until they're indistinguishable. "I followed a lead onto a train headed for Vale-"

"Why the _hell_ aren't you in Atlas like I _told you_?" her voice crackles some more, a bubble of something dark popping in her mouth and spilling down her chin.

"I sent one of my Guardians to Atlas." Cinder recovers as quickly and naturally as she can. She does her best not to react to the tightening lines of anger on Salem's face.

" _And_?"

"I haven't heard back from him yet." she admits, giving a little. At this point she would much rather Salem believe her to be incompetent than self-serving. Cinder watches Salem for a moment, waiting for the Witch's reaction, expecting some sort of backlash of what she surely thought was a monumentally stupid move on the Fall Maiden's part.

Instead Salem takes a visible inhale, bloodied nostrils flaring as she breathes out. "Go on."

"I had them," Cinder begins, but not too quickly. "I had one at _my feet_. A second more and I would've...but then that _thing_ gets between us and _attacks me_ - _ME_!"

"Did it?"

"It tried to take my damn head off!" she remembers now, her free hand absently going to where she expected to find lingering track marks along her jaw. Part of her is infuriated when Salem's expression remains neutral. "I thought you could control it." the Maiden growls bitterly, in part hunting for a greater reaction.

Salem's eyes appear to glow, the hellish redness of her irises shimmering wildly. "Manticore behaves how I intend it to, it wouldn't act outside its orders without good reason." she pauses, seeming to study Cinder through the glass. "What were you _really_ up to, Cinder?"

She scowls. "I was doing as I was told. No more, no less." And as convincing as she thought she sounded, Cinder was quite positive that Salem wasn't buying an ounce of what she was selling.

"If you _were_ doing as I asked, Manticore would have had no reason to interfere -even then I don't see how you managed to fail in your mission. You said you had them on their _knees_ after all..."

Cinder wanted to frown, to let her brow snap into the tightest knit she could muster, but held it down. "I was ambushed. Atlesian ships."

"Is that so? Frankly, that sounds _absurd_ , but considering it's _you_ I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised."

Cinder is mentally screaming, wanting nothing more than to reach through the ether and rearrange Salem's face.

"So how total was your failure? Can you salvage anything?"

Seething, she exhales, "I only came to a moment ago, I haven't had _time_ to take stock of the situation. My other Guardian says she might know where they are now."

"Let me save you both some trouble and _tell_ you. Glynda Goodwitch is involved in this,"

"How do you know?"

"I have ways," the Witch hisses, "and you can bet if she isn't aiding the Maidens by now, she will be. At this point I'm sure I don't need to tell you how time sensitive this has become."

"You'd be right." Cinder nods, her jaw clenching against a wall of things she wanted to say but knew she shouldn't. "She won't be hard to find."

"Are you _sure_?" the corner of the Witch's mouth actually turns upward, showing amusement to go with the condescending tone. It's enough to push every last one of Cinder's buttons. "If a simple ambush can do this to you, I'd hate to imagine what a seasoned Witch would be capable of."

Cinder's expression snaps into something vicious, light sparking in her eyes. "I'll kill her myself."

Salem is still grinning, a little wider now. "See that you do, because I won't tolerate another mistake like this."

"Are you threatening me?" A breath hitches in her chest.

The Witch's lips thin suddenly, straightening, and her brow levels over her dark eyes. "Are you giving me a reason?"

Cinder takes a deep breath, her back straightening with a burning pinch of pulled stitches. "I've been out here running from one corner of Remnant to the other, looking _for_ _ **your**_ _focus_ _**as well as a goddamn CARTEL of children BY MYSELF**_!" Gods she wanted to stand up, Cinder wanted to stand up and slam the mirror on the floor and be done with it. " _I_ infiltrated Vale and the White Fang, _I_ sabotaged the communications tower, _**I**_ toppled Beacon and _**killed Ozpin**_ , _**not you**_! You're _helpless_ without _me_ , you twisted hag! You. Don't. _Threaten_. _**ME**_."

And the rage just doubles over again as Cinder watches Salem's expression morph from what the Maiden believes is peeved to almost complete disinterest. "Considering I all but _gift wrapped_ the powers of the Fall Maiden for you, that lovely laundry list you just read off to me is the _least_ you could do. However, if you disagree, I'd be more than happy to receive you _here_ and discuss it face to face."

Cinder knows what she's doing, she knows damn good and well. Salem's trying to bait her into doing something foolish, just like she baited her years ago when she was younger, more vulnerable, more bruised. But that was then.

"Not interested?" Salem queries after a moment of tense silence. "Then I suggest you get back to work. Don't bother contacting me again until you have _actually_ made some progress."

Cinder stares back at the woman in the glass, eyes steadily thinning, steadily burning brighter, and then she tosses the mirror away out of spite. She exhales slowly, making an unconscious note of the coiling smoke coming from her mouth as she listens to the relic bounce across the concrete to an eventual stop. Didn't sound like it had broken, though she highly doubts the possibility of her caring if it had. All she cares about now is getting the fury back under control and getting her legs to work again.

\--

Salem watches Cinder's image shudder in the amethyst tint of the shard of volcanic glass she holds, watches until it disappears completely before allowing the heavy sliver to slip from her hand and hit the floor. The Witch is still too weak, her body throbbing painfully, leaving her slumped on the floor and propped against the wall of the one of the bleak tunnels beneath her fortress. With her hands now empty she drapes her arms across her stomach, her back straightening as best it can against the rough edges of the passage, her head tipped back as more blood starts to work between her lips. She had been holding it back for the entire conversation.

The Witch swallows, an audible thickness passing before she coughs. Her eyelids close, a stray crimson tear oozing down her streaked cheek. Another sputtering cough followed by a tight whimper, her arms tightening around her stomach. Everything hurts; her shallow and quiet breaths, her pulse through her body, the pressure on her skin, she can feel it all in a way she hasn't been able to feel anything for nigh on twenty years. It's awful.

"Salem,"

Even the soft vibration of her own name grates her tender nerves. Still, something in her compels her to turn her head and open her eyes, which have somehow changed from devilish red to a deep, midnight blue. It takes a moment for her to focus through the diffusion of a barrier of glass and find Ozpin's eyes as he sits on the floor, close by, and for once she is able to look at him and not feel absolute disgust. She watches him as he shifts, extending as much of his hand as he could through one of the openings in the glass wall. Part of her mentally recoils, the darkness in her, but the woman she had once been wants so badly to reach out.

She forces herself to move, two of her fingers hooking into his palm until his hand closes around them. His grip is secure but gentle, his skin warm, a stark contrast to anything in this purgatory. And while her expression remains unchanged -pained and unreadable- her eyes broadcast everything well enough.

"I'm sorry, Jarreth." she whimpers.

"I know. So am I." he tries not to show how unsettled he feels at the unearthly coolness of her flesh.

She swallows the new lump in her throat, sniffling. "Cinder is going to murder my sister."

"Give Glynda a little credit." he smiles, trying to sound as encouraging as possible.

While she doesn't say as much, she agrees, recalling the sharp sensation of Glynda's magic along the link between her and Manticore in the last moments before the threads were shredded. "And that girl...I don't know what's happened to her. It wanted me to pull her back through the mirror, but Glynda stopped the seal."

Ozpin nods, looking troubled. "Are you still connected to her?"

Salem shakes her head slowly, features tight. "She could be anywhere...if she's alive. The flux of magic might have killed her outright."

His scowl deepens. "What about the Grimm?"

"I won't know anything more until...until I lose myself again." She takes a deep, stabilizing breath, suppressing a wet cough. "It's weakened, I'm certain. They might have a chance...if they're quick."

"That's unlikely, seeing as they don't know where it is. But there isn't much use in worrying about it from here." he inches one shoulder with a lilt of his head. "Salem, if you have time, you could let me out,"

"I don't, she's already creeping back up. I'm sorry, Jarreth, _I am_." Still shaking her head, nigh on manic, she chokes back an attempted sob. "No matter," she gasps at a charge of pain, "n-no matter what I've said... _please_...believe that I never wanted this."

"I still believe in you, Salem." His grip tightens, his honey colored eyes set sympathetically as he watches - _feels_ her slowly slip away. "Try to stay strong just a little while longer. For them."

There is no response. Salem tenses sharply, her body so tight it partly rises against the wall. Another surge of blood spills down her chin in congress with a pulse of dark energy that washes across the floor and fills the tunnel with a bitter chill. Ozpin loosens his grip and withdraws, resignation smoothing the lines around his eyes and brow. He knows she's gone and finds no surprise when he chances to look again, finding Salem's irises are dark crimson as she glares at him through the glass once she's back on her feet. Now he feels the all too familiar contempt, strangely comforted by its return.

" _I'm going to kill you_." she hisses, her voice rough and tight between her bloodstained teeth.

"I know." his tone had changed as well. He wasn't talking to the woman he knew, his friend, the one he loved more than most. He was most assuredly addressing the awful thing that had taken up residence inside of her, a creature he knew and understood almost as well as its host. "I still remember the _first_ time you said that."

Her sneer deepens, turning caustic.

"Will that finally be enough?" he sighs, something like a rhetorical disappointment in his expression. Because he knows the answer to the question already, he's always known.

The Witch says nothing, be it out of spite or lack of necessity, and turns away in one sharp motion to disappear into the darkness of the corridor.

 

_(II)_

Reports had been given, alongside heavy handed explanations -more like lies- to any concerned parties such as the Association of Royal Railways, and a brief as well as open-ended report to General Ironwood. Glynda was sure to insist the situation was currently in flux and once she had more defined information that it would be delivered at the earliest possibility. She had hung up on him before he could protest for more than that. With the majority of the damage control out of the way, the two airships full of passengers sped away to the manor at Queen's Hollow.

A thunderstorm has rolled into the valley surrounding Vale in the minutes following their arrival, lightning breaking the now gray sky alongside curtains of raindrops. The weather system had been sudden, almost out of nowhere, and the feel of it has Glynda on edge. This sort of storm is simply unheard of this time of year, and even if it wasn't, it wouldn't be this severe this soon.

Tag had been in a half conscious haze but was finally coming around more fully, groaning as pain split through her head and made her want to vomit. Glynda offered her tea, which she took readily in spite of how harsh it smelled. She gagged a little on the first mouthful, having taking too much, but forces it down to chase it with a much smaller sip. The warmth is soothing, takes the edge off the headache, and she offers a tired sounding thank you to Glynda.

"I remember you." Tag continues, her head still moving absently up and down. "I was barely more than a woman at the time."

"You look barely more than a woman _now_." Glynda replies flatly. "Would you like some aspirin?"

"What?"

"It's medicine for pain."

"Oh...yes, I would, thank you." another nod, a curt one that ends the repetition.

Glynda moves around to the doorway of the parlor, to the drawer of a small table beside an unoccupied seat, and fishes around in it for a plastic bottle that rattles as she takes a pair of pills from it. She passes them off and sits in her favorite chair -a worn leather recliner three sizes too big even for her. The others are situated about the room around her with the exception of Winter, Daisy, Billy, and Ren and Nora. The youngest of which were still outside, having excused themselves to talk in private.

Glynda clears her throat, "I've often heard rumors that the Spring Maiden's powers offer her prolonged youth."

Tag looks up at her, curiously surprised at the comment, and swallows. "Maybe, maybe not. If so, it's not come to my attention. I'm only two-score and then some -should I not look like this?"

Glynda's brows lift in congress with a suppressed chuckle.

"What else have you heard? I'm actually quite curious." Anything to take her mind off the pounding in her head, or the rumble of raindrops on the windows, or the gut wrenching anxiety of not seeing her Guardian.

"As I said, it's mostly rumor and hearsay, so who knows what's true." Glynda waves one hand dismissively as she shifts in her seat, tucking her legs beneath her. She takes note of the other Maidens in the room moving slightly, honing their attention on her. Inwardly she has to take a moment to take it all in; three of the four Maidens were in her home, in this very room. Their combined magic, though still a little immature, is almost smothering to her own. Humbling. "Would you be all right with a...personal question?"

"...Meaning?"

"Meaning my curiosity is getting the better of me and if there's a topic you aren't comfortable discussing, I would like to know now."

"Well, to be truthful, what's embarrassing to you likely isn't to me."

"Ah, fair enough." Glynda nods, glaring at Qrow when she hears him snicker. She looks back at Tag and takes a breath with a tentative curl to her mouth. "Do you still menstruate?"

Every other woman in the room flinched. Yang's lavender eyes stretched as wide as possible. Ruby leans to Weiss to whisper in her ear, receiving one in return that made her expression match her sister's.

Strangely enough, Tag laughs, only wincing a little as the pain in her head lances. "I'm sorry, I get the feeling you didn't expect me to recognize that word and I think that's funny," she clears her throat. "But no, actually, I don't."

"So," Glynda lets the awkwardness pass, "hmm...interesting."

"Whoa, whoa, wait, is that gonna happen to them too?" Yang points with both hands, one at Blake and the other at Weiss. Then the two other Maidens look at each other.

Glynda pauses long enough to allow a particularly loud peel of thunder to come and go, mentally reminding herself of how unnatural this storm still feels. "I don't know, to be honest. I've understood these things to be different from one Maiden to the next, though some are consistent." Which is a not so little white lie. Ozpin had told her countless things about the manifestations and side effects of the Maidens' powers, one in particular being a Winter Maiden's penchant for infertility. Or how a Summer Maiden runs the risk of accumulating too many allies and losing her mind for all the identities trying to strong-arm her own. And while stunted aging sounds all well and good, one could only imagine how many loved ones a Spring Maiden must bury before she succumbs to old age -provided she lives that long to begin with. As for Fall...well, that wasn't important right now. "Are you showing any compulsions yet?"

"A little, here and there I think." Weiss answers, legs crossed as she sits, appearing relaxed. "Tag told us they'll get stronger over time."

"They can, yes."

"Will they affect our Guardians at all?"

Glynda adjusts her glasses, brow knitting, curious. "You have," then she exchanges quick glances with Ruby and Yang, catching on quickly and sighing a little. "Of course you do." Because sometimes she has trouble accepting when things fall into place without her intent, something she's had trouble with since she was a little girl. "But, in my experience, I don't believe they will."

"Same." Tag adds. "Billy's been my Guardian for...nigh on a score and they haven't...changed much at all. They certainly don't appear younger than they should." she finishes the sentence with a bit of a laugh, though the look that eases onto her face discredits any amusement.

"But your mark isn't on them all the time," the heiress adds.

"It isn't?" Glynda's gaze shifts again.

"No. They prefer it not be. It's...it's a thing between us." Tag visibly cringes. "Look...where's Billy? Why aren't any of you telling me anything?" And she watches the other humans in the room, watches them tensely look at each other without a word. "Are they dead?" and her heart clenches hard, bracing.

"No," Glynda answers quickly, her brow quirking almost invisibly as if it had been a lie. Or an uncertain truth. "I'll-"

Qrow moves from his place just behind her chair, gesturing with his hand. "Let me go,"

"If that's the case then I'll go myself," Tag gets to her feet, a little unstable at first with her hand on her stomach.

"Don't trouble yourself, Otter-mom-" Qrow grumbles, only to be cut off.

"Don't _you_ 'Otter-mom' _me_ , I'm still mad at you." she glares back at him, a little green flashing in her eyes. " _Shitbird_." her gaze then cuts to Glynda. "Where's Billy?"

The only Witch in the room mentally shudders at a flux of aura around her, leaving her slow to speak. The windows shake again as thunder rolls outside.

"I'll go with you, Tag." Weiss offers, standing smoothly before crossing the room. "Winter's with them."

The two Maiden's take the tension in the room with them when they exit the parlor, though Glynda still looks at Qrow with a confused sort of curiosity. "Shitbird?"

"I've been called worse." he inches his shoulders before digging into his pocket, retrieving his flask.

"I almost don't want to ask what you did to earn that."

"Don't." Yang requests -more so demands, but neutrally. One of Blake's ears turns towards her Guardian sharply, their mental link vibrating with everything Yang was keeping tucked behind the words.

Glynda only nods, effectively dropping the matter that she had the distinct feeling wasn't much her business anyway. "I think it's safe to say we won't be getting to the business end of this today, so feel free to make yourselves at home. Rest while you can and I'll make arrangements for dinner."

"What about Jaune?" Ruby pipes up, having to clear her throat first. It's been almost an hour and Jaune still hasn't woken up. The eerie greenness has left his irises, which was taken as a sign of improvement, but he had yet to move or show signs of regaining consciousness.

"Since it was Tag's magic that...did this...we'll have to wait until either she brings him back to his senses or he does it himself."

A part of Ruby flinches, not liking at all what she perceives as apathy in her former professor's voice. She feels like the only the person in the room that seems to care about Jaune and the state he's in. She feels guilty over it, and it all winds back to the scathing memory of that night atop Beacon Tower. Then again...Glynda was just being Glynda. She seemed apathetic about everything. "What if he never comes out of it?"

Glynda tries to show something like sympathy, but her seasoned huntress' mind doesn't make room for it. "I understand your concern, Miss Rose, but we'll have to worry about it when it comes." From there she stands up, pushing the creases from her clothes. "Now, would anyone else like some tea or coffee?"

 

The rain is coming down in sheets outside the manor. Weiss gives a thought to how strangely lukewarm the droplets of water feel, certainly out of place for this time of year, before she's distracted by the brush of Tag's aura over her, the energy pushing the water away from them. For a moment she marvels at how the droplets of rain hit the invisible energy and roll down the implication of a rounded surface. When the novelty passes she fixes her eyes straight ahead, to the middle of Glynda's sweeping lawn where the two airships take up residence. All of the snow had been washed away by the rain, leaving nothing but soaking wet grass beneath their feet.

Weiss can feel Tag's unease, and even if she couldn't, it was plain enough on the faunus' face. "I'm sure Billy's all right."

"Then why wouldn't anyone say so?"

"None of us know for certain, the medic has yet to speak to any of us. I'm sure if it was something... _bad_ , we would have been informed."

"You're sure?" Tag looks at her, worry forming lines around her eyes.

"I would like to think so. Atlesian corpsman are very procedural, so word would have gotten to me eventually -through Winter at the very least."

Tag nods, though Weiss can tell she's no more confident or comforted than before. "What...should I need a new Guardian,"

"Tag,"

"Who do you think would make a good one?"

"Oh, well," best go with it, she thinks. Damage control, preparing for the worst, she knows how to navigate that. "In my personal opinion...I think Ren would be a favorable choice. Out of the lot of us, anyway." though she didn't sound as certain as she would have liked. In truth she didn't know him any better than the rest of what remained of Team JNPR. "I'm sure he may seem withdrawn, maybe even distant, but," her hands fuss in front of her momentarily, "he's a competent fighter, exceptionally quick, and quite level headed."

"Hm." she nods again. Then she takes what is clearly a stabilizing breath. "Anyone else?"

Her hands are still fussing as her mind tries to find another answer. "I...can't really say. I mean...none of us have the years of experience that Billy does. Well, there's Mr. Branwen, but I have the distinct feeling that he isn't an option." Weiss almost laughs when she watches Tag quickly and decided shake her head. "Maybe you could ask Winter or Specialist Holiday?"

"Winter's your family, I couldn't ask you to hand her over to me like that. You deserve to be there for each other. And I don't mean to assume, but I doubt I could pull Daisy away from your sister even if I wanted to. Which I _don't_."

"Ah, fair enough I suppose."

"What about Jaune?"

"...You mean if he wakes up?" Weiss asks after a moment, finding it the only real response considering the circumstances of the moment.

"Assuming he does, yes."

"Are you so certain he will? I mean...what happened to him?"

"Honestly," she takes another breath, her shoulders inching as her arms cross. "I'm not sure. Somehow my magic went into him too, and I didn't mean for it to. I didn't think that sort of thing was possible."

"Then again, stranger things have happened of late." Very strange indeed.

"But it shouldn't have hurt him...at least I don't believe so."

"What were you doing?"

Tag's brow tightens a little further, the pain behind her eyes spiking for a second. "I needed to know just how human that hybrid is."

"And?"

"I got my answer."

"... _And_?"

She lets the peal of thunder roll by before responding. "I'm still trying to sort it out." because it all still feels like slivers of molten glass and pockets of noise that don't fit together any smoother than a square peg in a round hole. It still hurts to sift through, and she wouldn't have an answer until she can do that. "Be a little patient with me, the encounter was...taxing."

"I'm sorry."

Tag just smiles at her, assuring there was no harm done as best she can, and the two finish the walk to the airship in silence.

Once aboard, Tag will follow Weiss straight to the infirmary. It's a small, almost suffocating space, just big enough for no more than two occupants aside from the attending physician. The faunus hovered just outside the entrance and listened to Weiss introducing herself to the chief medic, almost afraid to look and see whatever was waiting in there for her. Her anxiety barely ebbs when Weiss regards her again.

"Billy's stable."

"What does that mean?"

The Winter Maiden flounders a little, expecting a different reaction. "Basically it means the worst is over, they aren't in any immediate danger."

"What happened to them?"

"They had a heart attack."

Tag's brow quirks, becomes uneven to follow the puzzled tilt of her head. For a dragging second she doesn't understand, but then pales a little. "Is that like brain dead?" because if that's the case...Nature have mercy if that's what's happened...

"No, no, no," Weiss even takes both of her hands in her own and holds them, "it's not that bad, I promise. The medic says they'll recover."

Tag exhales, though still appears on edge. "What...how does this sort of thing happen?"

"It's more common in older people, you said Billy is in their fifties, didn't you?"

"Yes, something like that. Fifty isn't _that_ old, is it?"

Weiss shakes her head a little, looking lost. "They must have overstressed themselves somehow."

For a moment she just thinks, nodding and trying to understand. "I need to see them. Please."

They didn't bother asking the chief medic permission -and he didn't bother demanding it in the presence of another Schnee- and they just showed themselves in to the only occupied bunk that's barely big enough.

Billy's clothes are neatly folded in a plastic tote. All their other gear stacked on top, waiting in silent resignation to be tucked away at the event of their owner's passing. But Tag knew they were still very much alive, feeling their dull aura now that she was finally close enough again. The Spring Maiden tries to stay focused on it, the little, cool pulse of silver slipping through her, instead of how still Billy is and how she's convinced the steady rise and fall of their chest just isn't full enough for them to be in anything resembling good health. Instead of focusing on the horrible crawling just beneath her skin at the sight of tubes and wires everywhere, though she knows they're for a good reason -just like when Yang was in the hospital.

Without a second thought Tag reaches for Billy's hand as it rests atop their stomach, needing both of hers to hold it. Her heart clenches when they don't respond as she hopes, continuing to just lie there and breathe. "Do you," she starts quietly, pausing to wet her lips with a quick pass of her tongue, "could my magic hurt them?"

"I...I don't know." Weiss keeps her voice low, following suit. "I mean...try it. If something goes wrong the medic is right here."

 _That's a horrible reason_ , Tag chastises herself a little. But she needed Billy more than her personal moral integrity. Whether they could still fight or not didn't even cross her mind, she just needed them to at least be awake, to speak to her. With her bottom lip between her teeth she gently turns Billy's hand over, exposing their wrist and pressing her thumb just below the faint bundle of veins there. Slowly, gently, Tag pushes the magic through, allowing her mark to form in its usual place but a little deeper. She can feel herself relaxing as their connection reforms, their heartbeats like static before coming together in time. The Maiden feels a little of their weakness too, the body wide tenderness brought on by the shock of trauma, and gladly shoulders it.

Billy takes a deep breath through their nostrils, pulling a richer concentration of oxygen through the tube stuck in their nose as their chest and stomach swell upward, like the first breath before waking. Heavy black lashes part to white and dull silver, their eyes moving aimlessly for a moment before everything comes into focus. Another deep breath coupled with a thick swallow, something resembling words trying to emerge through an unmoving mouth. Then they jolt a little at a surprisingly loud crack of thunder from outside.

"Did you feel that?" Weiss asks softly, her head turned to look over her shoulder.

"Something about this storm," she replies absently, too busy waiting for Billy to look at her.

"I'm going to have a look...just in case."

"All right. Be careful." the last part she adds as a sort of afterthought, and she waits for the clicking of heels to disappear before continuing to say, "hey there, you stubborn jerk."

Billy finally fixes their gaze on her, blinking slowly before making an effort to speak but only getting more formless groans. As much as she hates seeing them so low, she can't help but smile. They're together again, that's the important thing, given enough time her magic would rectify anything else.

"Easy now. Just give yourself a few more hours, my mark is on you so you should be all right in no time."

Billy nods, taking another deep breath. They try one more time. "...The Grimm." is all they manage to get out clearly.

"We don't know yet. It disappeared." she seems...disappointed? _We've been apart for this long...and that's all they can think about..._

Billy exhales, more like deflates with a low vibration. "...swore I killed it."

Tag's expression flickers, moving indecisively between two distinct notions before settling somewhere in the middle of happiness and dismay. "Billy, I _told_ you,"

"I know." they croak out with a jerk of their shoulders, like they're trying to move.

"Well I'm telling you again." she grips their big hand a little tighter. "And now I'm _certain_." At least as certain as she thought herself capable of being. "We have to try and help her."

" _Her_?" they shift again, half jerking their hand from her grip as they prop themselves up a little. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, I'm just disagreeing. You didn't see what I saw."

"Tell me what you saw then?"

Billy almost sits up completely, quickly snatching the hem of the blanket covering them before it can fall too far, keeping their breasts hidden since their binder was gone to make room for wires and patches that kept track of their heart. They let the discomfort pass as they clear their throat again. "I thought perhaps the Lion and the Fall Maiden were in league with each other. Now, I didn't get the best look at it, but I could have sworn I saw the thing go after Cinder and her Guardian."

As valuable as that detail is, Tag still had an uncertain setting to her face. "What difference does that make?"

"I don't think the creature answers to _anyone_ , is what I mean. It's a wandering disaster just like any other Grimm, just like any other _Old One_ , and it's just going to keep hurting people until it's stopped."

"Don't work yourself up too much, you need to relax." Tag leans onto the bunk, just finding enough of a ledge to perch on. "And while I agree with you, _killing_ her is not an option, do you understand?"

Billy scowls, wordless with their eyes cast downward for a moment. Then "What about Jaune? Is he all right?"

"We should know soon."

"What happened to him?"

"Something went...wild with my magic," Tag shakes her head a little, pushing her hand through her hair, "some of it went into him somehow and...I just don't know yet. I'm still reeling from it myself. He's alive, just...not with us at the moment."

"I don't like that sound of that." Billy admits warily, giving a dry, sarcastic sounding huff, "here's hoping his mother doesn't hear of this."

Before Tag can respond -because she's eager to, considering it seems her usually stalwart Guardian is suddenly afraid of someone- there's another resounding _BOOM_ of thunder from outside, making both of them jump. The otter bristles, the short hairs on her tail standing up. "That one was really close... _too_ close." And just as the charge of energy dissipates it returns, the frame of the craft shuddering a second time. Tag immediately stands up. "I'll be back."

Something about this is desperately out of place, and now she's certain of it.

"I'm coming with you,"

"You dress yourself by so much as a stitch and I won't speak to you for a week." Tag barks over her shoulder, not even turning to face them as she leaves the infirmary with ever quickening strides.

Upon stepping out of the airship and onto the still soaked grass, Tag recoils at the incredible winds that all but shove her back inside. She has to consciously fight to stay on her feet, her hands up to block the gusts so she can open her eyes. The clouds above her have grown darker, heavier, and look like they're beginning to spiral over the manor -a trait in the weather Tag had never seen before but ascertained rather quickly that it was far from a good sign. The lightning had indeed come much closer, bolts of it crackling from cloud to cloud before crashing to the ground and leaving a halo of steam in its wake. Tag can feel the great burst of energy come and go, but can also feel whatever it is drawing it down.

And she follows the trail almost to Glynda's doorstep, where Nora stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her jaw set in a fierce snarl, and her eyes red with tears.

 

 

Author's Note: This one feels a little weird, but mostly good, so I'll keep it as it is I think. It was meant lay out the aftermath of the last two chapters, which I think I've accomplished. Next chapter we're going to get more Witch lore, awkward family bonding, and everyone's favorite ginger dynamo is going to vent some of the feelings she's been keeping locked up for so long.

 


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

It started this morning on the airship, when word first got out of Cinder being on the train that Jaune was taking to Vale. It was just a suspicious prick at the back of Ren's mind that Nora wasn't feeling so good anymore. It didn't raise any alarms because Ren could understand the reasoning behind it. Nothing out of the ordinary. It escalated only minutes later, setting him somewhat uneasy until he discerned the source: Nora had tried to take Tag's mark and the Spring Maiden had been unable to give it. There was no explanation as to why, and that had managed to wind Nora a little tighter. Still, he understood; she wanted to do everything she could to help, and being kept from that would upset anyone.

Her frustration and anxiety leveled at a low simmer that kept steady until the train itself came into view, then it spiked -something Ren actually expected. It's how she is, all flashbang and freckles set to a hair trigger. How she's always been. The anxiousness sparked into determination, something else Ren was expecting as he followed her through the ship when she bolted from the cockpit. Ren felt as though he was just barely able to keep up with her, his aura just able to keep pace with hers as they both jumped from the ship and onto the train, Qrow bringing up the rear.

What he hadn't expected was how she quickly pulled away from him, sprinting along the cars of the train with a quickness he had never seen before. Before he could fully process what was happening, he saw a glint of light as the sun caught Magnhild swinging through the air, and then felt a jolt work through him -the residual energy behind the blow that collided with Cinder Fall. That's when he became nervous. Because she was furious, it was in her eyes and arcing through the touch of her aura. Sure, she had been angry before, but this...was something else. There was a savage, unbridled _meanness_ in the way she ran Cinder down and swung at her, the second blow crashing most certainly into the Fall Maiden's face.

Ren keeps playing it back in his head in spite of how much it scared him: watching her jump from the train without a second thought, her form disappearing into a dense host of thick timbers in pursuit of Cinder -hearing tree trunks shatter without knowing why. He and Qrow had been quick to follow, needing to make almost no effort at all to track Nora down to where the trees ended and opened up to a snowy meadow. Cinder was trying her best to get away, half limping-half crawling through the snow. Nora would have been on her again in seconds, intending to put every ounce she could muster behind one more crushing swing as she raised her weapon to her shoulder.

Cinder collapsed in the same instant Nora leaped into the air, Magnhild lifting over her head. And in the moment just before it fell, Cinder's Guardian appeared seemingly from nowhere in a flash of light to spirit her Maiden away just as suddenly.

For several tense moments Nora simple stood there, hunched over her weapon and the crater it had punched through the snow and the earth beneath it. Ren felt her aura crackling like static, a sensation that immediately began rubbing him raw, an awful stimulus that only amplified as Qrow did his best to comfort Nora -which is to say he said the last thing Nora likely wanted or needed to hear.

_You win some, you lose some, kid. I'm sorry._

Ren remembers the way her eyes cut to him, the way she glared at the aged huntsman with a volatile mixture of hurt and anger and disbelief. For a moment she looked like she had something to say, but nothing came and she remained silent all the way back to Glynda's manor. Still feeling that abrasive, electric popping against him, Ren gave the others leave to go inside while he and Nora tried to sort it out. That's when the storm clouds started gathering, and then the rain came when she suddenly burst into tears.

He just let her cry, he didn't know what else to do. He let her try to push the anger down, let her pace and stomp her feet on the ground like a kid in the midst of tantrum if that's what she needed. All the while her aura swelled and pitched like the clouds above them that had begun to rumble a little, and the rain soaked them through to their skin. Ren knew the words would come eventually, and they would come all at once in a tumbling hurry like they always do when she gets overwhelmed. At one point she turns and all but throws herself against him, sobbing into his shoulder as her fists beat on his chest -a little pain he accepts willingly, just as he accepts it when she shoves him away though he doesn't know why. And it only worries him more when the little pulse of his Semblance that he sends out to her ricochets back to him, unsuccessful.

This goes on for several minutes, her silent and feverish back and forth that seems to serve no obvious purpose except to bring the thunder and lightning around in greater frequency and closer proximity. Ren was beginning to see the flashes, mentally counting the seconds until the subsequent thunder to judge the steadily shrinking distance. The winds howl louder, pushing against the two of them, though they don't seem to affect Nora at all. Like they're not even there. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the energy in the air swells again, a quick glance upward showing him how the clouds have begun to swirl. He had never seen her like this, not once in all the years they had known one another had her emotions taken such a vicious hold.

Ren would swear his heart skipped a beat when she looked at him again, the once gentle blueness of her eyes now flickering with arcs of violent light.

\--

The manor shudders with a clap of thunder that sounds like it came from just outside the windows, the old stained glass rattling in its iron frames as everyone winces at the resounding _BANG_. Everyone including Jaune, his once relaxed body tensing with enough force to raise him from the cushions for a split second and push the air out of his lungs with an almost nauseous sound. Lifting his head with a snap of motion he looks around the room, eyes wide and bleary. It's clear he isn't entirely sure where he is or how he got here or what the fuck is going on, his chest working quickly as is customary when startled.

Ruby gets to him first even though Glynda's chair is closer, almost tripping on her own feet in her hurry. She can't decide between asking him if he's okay, asking him what happened, and just saying hello that she throws all of it out in exchange for a tight hug around his neck as he props himself up on his hands. He feels stiff in her arms, unexpectedly unreceptive, and an awkward repulsion inches between them. When she pulls back her expression is no longer of happiness and relief, but tense inquiry. Jaune is looking at her like someone who just learned a gutting secret, his eyes intense but strangely empty, disenchanted.

Glynda rises from her chair and moves to the sofa, bending at the waist to get a closer look at him. "Glad you're awake, Mr. Arc, how are feeling?"

He turns his head slowly, like his skull's almost too heavy to move, and for a moment he just stares at the older woman while his brain catches up. When it does his brow knits, curious. "Aunt Glynda?"

" _Aunt_ ?!" Ruby, Blake, and Yang all say in unison with equal surprise. Qrow sputters on a stifled laugh, something that becomes harder to restrain when he watches the bridge of her glasses snap in half and fall from her face.

For a moment Jaune and Glynda's expressions match, disbelief stretching their features for a few scattering seconds. The Witch's jaw works stupidly as she scrambles for the pieces of her spectacles, hands fumbling with the two halves. When she looks up again the shock has morphed into obvious frustration. " _You've_ been doing this!" It almost sounds like she should have known, as if he had been the only obvious explanation.

"D-doing what?"

"Things have been falling apart around here for weeks! My coffee mug, my  _mother's_ inkwell, a  _two hundred year old_ Forever Fall cuckoo clock,  _and now my_ _**glasses** _ !"

"You make it sound like I'm doing it on purpose," he almost whimpers.

"And where the hell do you get off calling me your  _aunt_ ?"

"He's Gypsy's boy." Qrow explains softly, not too sure Jaune could handle the brunt of what Glynda was aiming to throw at him. "Small world, huh?"

Glynda gapes at him, the distaste for his lopsided smirk evident in the thinness of her eyes. Then she snaps her gaze back to Jaune. "Is that true?"

"Y-yeah," Jaune shifts to sit up, his feet on the floor. He ignores the little tightness in his stomach. "It was on my transcripts, remember?"

"If I had thought for longer than half a second that your papers were  _real,_ I would have." she snips back at him, making him recoil slightly. Her lips press into a thin line as she shifts her focus to her glasses, shaking her head as she briefly stares and forces herself to accept these new circumstances. "You're  _Gypsy's_ son," she almost whispers to herself, like saying it any louder would just make it all the more crazy to hear. " _How_ ?"

"Well, Goodwitch, when a man and a woman love each other very much-"

" _Oh to hell with you_ !"

He laughs a little. "He would've been barely walking last time you saw your sister." Qrow adds. "You didn't even go with us to get her, though, did you?"

"No, I stayed in Vale with Ozpin." she shakes her head again, flopping back into her recliner. "It just didn't seem appropriate...after having not spoken to her after so long...I don't know." Before her crowding thoughts could smother her focus any further, she uses a flicker of Semblance to mend her glasses, eventually fussing them back into place. "But that's...that's another thing. Now that you're awake, I have a number of-"  _Ch-POW_ comes the thunder from outside, " _That's it_ ! Something about this weather is severely  _wrong_ and I'm going to put a stop to it before my house falls over!"

Still a little stunned by all the things happening at once, the others watch as Glynda jackknifes out of her chair with a snapping push of her hands against the worn leather that puts her on her feet. Qrow manages to turn as she marches by him, his steps not as hurried as he tails her to the door. The Witch throws the door open and pauses, surprise stretching her face again as she looks down at Weiss Schnee who looked frozen in the seconds before opening the door from her side.

"M-Miss Schnee,"

"Professor," her jaw continues working but for a struggling instant the words won't come.

" _Well_ ?"

"I'm sorry," the heiress shakes her head. "It's Nora. I think she's causing the storm."

" _Excuse me_ ?!" Glynda sounds more baffled than shocked, and for a second she just stares back at Weiss, the back of her mind railing with  _what is with these kids?!_ "For gods' sake," she grumbles at last, and pushes passed Weiss with as much decorum as she can be bothered to give.

Jaune straightens, a wince working across his face as his body lightly protests. "Is Nora okay?"

Qrow looks over his shoulder, "She wasn't physically hurt, I don't think, but she got real quiet. Now I don't know her as well as you, but I'd put money on that not being a good sign."

Jaune didn't need to hear anything else. He forces himself to stand up even though it feels like the world is swinging back and forth beneath him. Ruby helped him stay stable long enough to start walking towards the door, Jaune nodding his head and assuring her he can make it on his own after a few steps. He's surprised to find Qrow waiting for him, helping him out of the room and down the hall.

Ruby catches Weiss' attention from where she sits, perhaps waiting for a word or gesture that she never receives.

 

The front door of the manor swings hard to the inside, almost belting Glynda in the face as a gust of wind shoves through the opening. It's a howling fanfare to the wall of rain that comes in right behind it, the polished marble tiles on the floor glistening with water almost instantly. Leaning against the gales Glynda carefully but resolutely marches out her door and down the front steps into the grass, the water having pooled there up to the bulging bones in her ankles. With a thin, critical gaze she scans the reaches of her lawn, and sure enough she finds Nora Valkyrie standing not too far away, looking like a powder keg that's about to go off. And, by the looks of it, Ren was trying and failing to talk her down. What a surge of aura - _is that what it is?_ Glynda knew Nora was capable of a great amount of raw energy, knew it when she was her student, but gods above, it had never felt this big or this powerful. Were those sparks rolling off of her?!

"Looks like Ice Princess was right," Qrow has to shout over the wind, his head tipped back as he looks into the clouds overhead, watching them spiral and quickly pick up momentum. "Hope you got insurance, Glynda; last I heard, twisters and houses aren't such a great combination around Witches."

The look she shot him over her shoulder should have dropped him dead. Because she hated that story and he knew she hated it and because Glynda- _fucking_ -Goodwitch had fought too hard for too long to have her life cut short by a house falling on her. But that's beside the point; the point is that electricity only has so much sway over weather patterns -how could Nora's Semblance be able to manifest this way? How could it possibly be on the verge of pulling a cyclone out of thin air?!

Unless...

The frustration at Qrow leaves her face in congress with a flash of lightning, the resulting bang barely phasing her though she feels it in her ribs, lungs, and heart. Her mind is working, filing clues together like puzzle pieces until things begin making sense, answering mental questions such as  _why hadn't I sensed it before?_ Because she hadn't been looking, because Ozpin is too good at what he does, or any number of other things that weren't important right now.

Jaune staggers down the steps and onto the grass, almost falling. He has to think before he opens his mouth. "Glynda, what are you doing?"

"Mr. Arc, you had best keep back. If this goes poorly I'd prefer you be at a safe distance."

"What," he sputters, watching Glynda starting towards Nora and Ren. At least that's what he assumes. He's stumbling again as he moves to catch up with her. "No, wait, let me try. Maybe I can talk to her."

"If this is what I think it is, she isn't going to listen."

"Not to  _you_ ," he's visibly shocked when she stops, half turning to look at him, her gaze critical as always. "Please, Glynda, she's my friend." Jaune feels like he has to beg because, when you get down to brass tacks, he couldn't actually stop Glynda from doing a damn thing.

Her chest puffs up with a breath. "Mr. Arc, I don't think you understand the gravity of the-"

Jaune feels an uncustomary tension in him, a little meanness, and his brow tightens. "I'll say it."

"I...excuse me?"

"I don't know what's going to break this time, but I'll say it. I'll say it and I'll mean it."

She recoils a little, barely enough motion in the gesture for anyone to see. Perhaps she's just as shocked as Jaune is that he would have the guts to offer  _her_ -of all people- an ultimatum. Under any other circumstances, Glynda would have to fight not to laugh or scoff at him, but considering she knew so little as to why or how this strange thing he was doing worked, she couldn't call his bluff in good confidence. What if he just so happened to break her focus, or the countless foci hidden in her house? Or the  _house_ ?

Her best option is to simply step aside, which she does. Reluctantly. She'll continue to watch, cautiously curious as Jaune wastes no time in all but sprinting around her to close the distance between him and his teammates as quickly as possible. She listens as he calls out to them, to Nora in particular, and she swears she can feel a change in the air as Nora appears to acknowledge him. An upward glance confirms most if not all of her suspicions as the clouds begin to settle. Though she shakes her head, her mouth kinked up in disbelief, she's relieved. Qrow is visibly impressed.

 

Nora's thoughts have been a hot riot of... _things_ . A rabid mess of thoughts and feelings that just kept getting bigger and bigger until she felt it burning through her veins and her fingertips like static. It both did and didn't feel like her Semblance, and maybe that's how it got away from her so quickly. She couldn't focus, and the presence of the energy in her body didn't seem out of the ordinary. That coupled with her racing thoughts and pounding heart just...she lost herself in it. Ren hadn't been able to pull her back down and that only seemed to make things worse. She was unconsciously resisting him, resisting the stabilizing touch of his Semblance; everything was wrong and she couldn't think straight enough to understand why. She wasn't even aware of the pouring rain or the crack of thunder overhead.

Nora will only partly register the sound of someone calling her name, a voice laced with worry that makes her gaze move away from her partner and towards the source. The maelstrom in her head seems to ease when she comprehends Jaune, the image of him and how the distant sounds coincide with the movements of his mouth. It doesn't still completely, but the winds start to die down, the clouds thin though not enough to see the sky through. The rain continues unchanged.

He doesn't want to ignore Ren -Jaune's missed him just as much as Nora- but all he can think to do is take Nora up in his arms and hold her as close as he can. She tenses against him, her arms trapped between the two of them and her forehead pushing into the junction of his collar bones. There's one more massive crash of light and sound overhead before she starts sobbing. Jaune can feel sharp pinpricks of static in his skin, but he doesn't care. Without a thought he extends one arm and snatches Ren by the shoulder, pulling him in as he hooks him around the back of his neck. Instinctively they shelter Nora between them.

"I was s-scared," she shudders, her chest working in quick jerks. "I was scared, and then I was _so mad_ -it was _Cinder_ , _so_ _ **of course**_ _I was mad_! And then I was scared again when I didn't see you on the train _and then I was mad again because there's_ _ **Cinder**_ _and I just kept getting_ _ **madder and madder and madder**_ ," one of her fists is feebly pounding against Jaune's chest. He takes it like champ. "I h-had to stop her, I knew I had to and _wanted to so badly_! I just w-wanted to make her stop and I _screwed up_! I s-screwed up and she got away and that just m-made me _scared_ again, b-because now she's going to come back -she's going to _keep coming back_ because I couldn't stop her and she's going to take you both away from me and I'm going to be all alone again and...a-and then you were just _laying there_ , you weren't moving and I thought..."

Jaune tightens his hold on her when her words get stuck, his chin tucking until his cheek rests atop her head. "It's okay, Nora, it's okay. I'm all right, and we're together again."

She shudders hard, an aborted sob grinding in her chest. "B-but Cinder-"

"Cinder doesn't matter, I don't care about her. I care about  _you_ and Ren, you two are the whole world to me right now."

For a moment she's quiet, sniffling and trying to get herself back under control, her mind finally acknowledging the droplets of cold rain rolling down her hot face beside her tears. Then she tenses up, threatening to start crying all over again because she knows she brought this storm with her. Not that she's sorry, just a little embarrassed that it couldn't happen under more flattering circumstances. Finally she moves her arms, wedging them out from between her and Jaune so she can wrap them around his waist and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. She hears the dull click of his bones popping and wants to laugh at the tight wheeze he makes. One of her arms suddenly unhinges from Jaune to reach back, fingers grasping until she snags  _something_ of Ren's and pulls it to her. Ren's just thankful it isn't his hair as he inches a little closer, until his forehead can touch Jaune's. The two young men look at each other briefly, sincerely, and share a smile.

 

Glynda is still watching, still shaking her head though more so mentally than physically. The thunder has stopped, the clouds are breaking up, and the rain is beginning to taper off, the sound of falling water more like a hiss than a roar now. Part of her just can't believe...any of this, the same part of her that felt hurt that all of this was so far out of her control and there was nothing she could do to change it. She can feel Qrow just over her shoulder, practically perched there, and she's just waiting for him to say something.

"What are you thinking, Glynda?"

"In short," she sniffs, "I'm too old for this. At length, Ozpin knew ten times more about these kids than he ever let on."

"True enough." he chuckles, smoothing his hand over the top of his head, pushing wet hair out of his face. "You're nephew certainly grew a pair, didn't he?"

She mentally cringes. "Could you give me a little more time before you start saying things like that? It hasn't even been an hour,"

"Honestly I don't see how you're so surprised, I mean, can't you see the resemblance?" and his tone leans with sarcasm.

Glynda glares at him, eyes thin and vicious. "Well he certainly doesn't take after  _me_ ,"

"Nah, he doesn't have your perpetual scowl. But his eyes, they're just like Gypsy's."

She looks away from him, back to the pod of kids. "...I suppose." Now that she really thinks about it, Jaune more resembles her own mother. "Maybe that's why Ozpin let him stay."

"Likely. A son of a Witch is a rare find, and he always liked Gypsy."

"But how did he  _know_ ?"

"Maybe  _he_ actually read his transcripts?"

Glynda just rolls her eyes with a huff.  _Or maybe the same way he knew about Salem and I. Somehow he just_ _**knew** _ .

"That was quite something, wasn't it?"

Qrow and Glynda turn their heads in unison to see Tag coming across the lawn towards them, looking wholly relaxed and at home soaking wet from head to tail. She's even smiling a little, nodding when Qrow asks if she's all right.

"How's your Guardian holding up?" he continues.

"They'll recover, thankfully. A day or two and they should be on their feet again." she stops beside them, almost shoulder to shoulder with the Witch as they face the same direction.

"I take it you saw all of that?" Glynda asks, her tone having softened as much as it can.

"I did."

"Make anything out of the ordinary of it?"

"Only that it wasn't all caused by aura. I mean, it was part of it, much like kindling is part of a fire. The rest was something else," her smiles widens a little as she watches Jaune and the others still caught up in each other. It's nice to see his pack together again. "Felt a little like magic."

"Guess that settles it then." Glynda sighs.

"You felt it too?"

"Oh yes." how could she not? "Guess I needed a second opinion before I  _believed_ it."  _What is with these kids?_

"There isn't something wrong with Nora, is there?" Tag appears genuinely worried.

"No, no, nothing wrong. It's just that I hate surprises." and the little huff of a laughter she offers up sounds somewhat bitter, suggesting countless things that she isn't about to say aloud. She pushes herself into a casual walk, renewing her initial approach but now with an air of resignation instead of determination.

Tag and Qrow simply watch, both curious as to what was going to happen as they hold the same poster with their arms crossed and heads cocked to the side a little. They can't hear the exchange between the lot of them, won't hear anything for more than a minute until Nora takes a step back, her face stretched in shock for a moment before she shouts "Holy shit, I'm a magical girl!" And by Glynda's reaction -her shoulders seeming to sink a little- she had likely been expecting a much more...sober response to Nora being told she is a Witch. Then the rain stops completely, though they still can't see the sun for a cluster of clouds that lingers over the manor.

Eventually the lot of them file back inside, save for Tag who returns to the ship to be with Billy, and begin the search for dry clothes and hot drinks to ward off the chill. Once squared away, Glynda asks Blake to show Nora and Ren to the heart of the house, asking Nora to stay there for now and that the two of them would sit down and talk all this over later. Much later, in fact, as she had an incredible amount of questions for her neph-... for Jaune, and she just can't stand to have them unanswered for much longer. She asks him to follow her to her personal study, part of her surprised when he wordlessly agrees.

"I-I'm sorry about earlier." Jaune mutters sheepishly, his hands in his pockets as he watches Glynda shut the study door. The fact that he had -more or less- threatened her still hung on him like a weight around his neck. He knows that sort of behavior isn't like him, but the truth is that he was scared. He didn't know what was going on, what was going to happen, and he didn't want anything else to happen to his teammates.

"It's quite all right," she sighs, crossing the floor and rolling a chair out from its place against the desk. "I'm more shocked than anything. Please, sit."

Jaune turns in place until he spots another chair, pulling it under him. For a moment the two sit silently, maybe waiting on each other, maybe not. "So...w-what did you want to talk about?"

"We can discuss the family matters at a later time," she clears her throat and crosses her legs as she lounges back in the chair, "what I'm mostly curious about is how Cinder was able to find you. I refuse to think it was simple chance unless, of course, you can convince me otherwise."

Jaune hunches in his seat, propping his elbows on his knees and lancing his fingers together beneath his chin. "I thought it was coincidence at first, too," he inches his shoulders, seeming to look everywhere but at her. "But I think she followed me somehow."

"What makes you think that?" one blond brow rises.

"She said something strange," he thinks about it, his brow furrowing as he tries to sort through the jumbled mess of things in his head. "She said I had something that belonged to her. But that doesn't make any sense."

Now their expressions match, brows tight with consideration and mild confusion.

"Have you been carrying something on you that you weren't before? Maybe something out of the ordinary that you're wearing,"

"Not really...well, there's this thing my little sister gave me," he straightens and reaches into his shirt. A little laugh escapes him, "she told me to wear it for good luck. Hate to break it to her that it doesn't work. Which reminds me, I need to call home soon,"

Glynda eyes the chain in his hand, following it to the token that is eventually revealed. Her eyes thin as she feels a bristling warmth cross over her. "Where did you get that?"

"My baby sister."

Her hand fumbles in the air, dispelling her self frustration. "But where did  _she_ get it?"

"She said she found it in our attic, but with her it could have been from anywhere. Why? Do you recognize it?"

"No. May I see it?"

Jaune agrees, nodding wordlessly as she leans toward him with an extended hand. He hands it to her, only partly anxious that he's breaking his promise to Yumi.

Glynda lets the charm lay flat on her palm, the rat skull glaring vacantly back at her. She looks it over for any markings or engravings that might clue her in as to its origin or creator and finds nothing. The bone is real, she knows, though it appears the charm it's mounted to is cheap, easily tarnished by anything -including age. Whatever was under the silver looking leaf is splotched with rust but isn't showing any definite damage. All in all it's intact. Glynda feels the delicate warmth ripple through her again, and this time responds with a flicker of her own energy, curious. When it doubles back with a quick snap, her eyes widen enough for her glasses to slide an inch down her nose.

"What's wrong?" Jaune asks, having witnessed the sudden change. Anxiety creeps up his back as he watches her start talking to herself, whispering in half formed questions as she stares at the necklace.

Finally she looks up at him. "You said this was in the attic?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom keeps a lot of stuff up there...gods know where half of it came from...but what is it?"

"This is how Cinder was able to find you." she explains with certainty and a curt tip of her chin. "This is Cinder's focus." and while she expected a reaction of some kind, she didn't plan on the one she receives. Like he understands.

"I thought only a Witch could have a focus."

"So did I." Glynda rises from her chair and quickly turns on her heels to head for the door. "Clearly there are some things even  _mother_ won't tell me."

"W-where are you going?" his body is quicker to react than his mouth. "Hey,"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Arc, but this needs to be put away, that is unless you  _want_ Cinder Fall knocking down my door,"

He scowls as he comes up behind her, walking in time down the corridor. "Stupid question."

Okay, maybe Jaune took after Gypsy more than she thought. Namely her sass.

It doesn't take Jaune long at all to realize they're headed back the way they had originally come, back to the heart of the house -as Glynda had called it. Sure enough the two of them stepped into the room, a strange, almost homey comfort moving over him as he comes through the door, and he meets Nora and Ren's curious gazes as the two snuggle for warmth beneath a blanket on the bed beside the old wooden secretary. When they ask him what's going on, all he can think to do is inch his shoulders and say "I think it's Witch stuff."

"Only partly." Glynda corrects him as she moves across the floor to the far side of the room, regarding one of the frames on the wall. "If Cinder is a Maiden -which we're rather certain of- it isn't possible for her to be a Witch. However," she pauses long enough to carefully lift the frame from its hook, revealing the almost invisible seams of a panel in the wall. Jaune just catches a flicker of jade light, the pattern of Glynda's emblem flashing before a space in the wall no bigger than a book swing open with an audible click. "Qrow has managed to dig up a few rumors to suggest that a Witch raised her. She would have been able to craft the focus."

"But why?"

"There's a number of reasons." she shakes her head a little as she places the necklace in the revealed recess, quick to close it up and seal it again. Once the frame is back in place and  _just right_ , she turns to look at Jaune again. "It's possible the Witch was aware of Cinder's power even as a child; a focus is meant to balance us, after all."

Jaune's eyes widen a little. "No wonder she wanted it so badly."  _...after I sift through your scorched bones!_ rings in his head for a moment alongside a flash of images, images of ember eyes burning like dying suns.

"Can't we just break it?" Nora whines a little, caught between fatigue and frustration.

"I'm afraid that's the exact opposite of what we want or need, Miss Valkyrie." Glynda sighs. "As it stands, this is the  _only_ advantage we have, and we have to keep it for as long as possible. Indefinitely would be best."

The younger hunters can't begin to imagine how much worse it would be if Cinder ever became whole again, they just can't. They just exchange silent, anxious looks at one another, Nora tucking a little closer to Ren's side.

"Now you're  _certain_ your sister found it? No one gave it to her?" Glynda tries again, looking to be fighting to fill in the holes in her thoughts with more information.

"Yumi wouldn't lie to me. She's at that brutally honest age, you know?"

"No, I don't, but I'll take your word for it." she shakes her head for the dozenth time that day, pushing a stray strand of damp hair from her face. "I'll ask Gypsy myself...we can continue our conversation later if I need it."

"All right. Could you make sure mom knows I'm all right? Because she's going to ask...and don't tell her Billy and I were jumped on the train."

"Oh I know, trust me, I know how protective your mother can be. For the time being I think it's best that anyone presently outside of this house be kept on the need-to-know."

"I guess so."

"Glad we can agree." she nods for a change, moving from her place towards the large, body-length mirror with the ornate frame full of swords, moths, rabbits and a crow across the top. Very carefully she begins to lift it from its stand, just able to tuck it beneath one arm. She asks Jaune to open the door for her, taking calculated steps until she's in the hallway again. The glass in the frame seems to shimmer briefly, as if the relic had just woken up.

"Anything else I can help you with?"

"No, but thank you. Feel free to make yourself at home, I likely won't see you again until dinner."

Jaune just nods, Glynda taking the gesture as leave to go about her business. When she's out of sight, having ducked into one of the countless other rooms, he eases away from the doorway and wanders almost aimlessly in the general direction of the bed. He's feeling tired again in spite of have been in something like a coma for the last...couple hours?

When he's close enough, Nora untangles herself from Ren, opening her arms and in turn the blanket they're sharing as an offering for him to sit between them. He doesn't hesitate, he's missed them too much to say anything or do anything other than accept. Once he's settled, his back against the wall and his feet hanging off the side, he mimics Nora's previous pose with his arms up and out, returning the favor and making space for them.

"I wanted to be the filling of the friend sandwich, but this is good too." Nora sighs, sounding and feeling the most content she's been in weeks as she rests her head against his chest, her legs tucking up close to stay under the blanket. Ren doesn't get quite as close, but near enough that Jaune can line his arm across the back of his neck and hug him gently. Nora then reaches across Jaune's stomach and snatches Ren's hand, sighing again. "My boys." Now she's smiling. 

And for a spell, Jaune is smiling too. He's content where he is and hasn't a care in the world now that his team is back together again. He isn't afraid for his life and his head is empty, though that last one only holds true for so long. He can feel his thoughts resurfacing and wandering off, lingering to the back where he'd been pushing all of the day's messes to be picked through later. Before he realizes it he's thinking about Cinder again, her haunting likeness blinking behind closed eyelids. What he would give to forget about her completely.

Jaune's able to push her out of his thoughts, but that only makes room for other things he doesn't want to think about. Worse things in their own right. He still doesn't know what Tag did, or how he got pulled into it, but a part of him wishes he hadn't been. Not because of the pain or the strange foreign feeling of his body when he first came out of it, but because of what he saw. It had been a hot mess of things he neither should have been able to or wanted to see; a wind tunnel of what seemed like bad dreams and a certain sort of madness that's only spoken of in whispers.

He had seen Cinder plain enough, and he had seen the pale woman from his nightmares that had threatened to shatter him. Part of him is convinced he saw the Grimm that made up the dark half of the hybrid, saw it through the eyes of someone else, and thought it an awful looking beast of a thing. He can't focus on the idea long enough to recreate a clear mental picture of it, so he pushes passed it. And then he saw...

He saw Pyrrha.

But why would he see her? Why would he hear her voice in his head, ringing with such intensity that it almost broke him? And why does it still linger in the back of his mind as if it had come from her own mouth? 

_I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..._ It isn't just static repetition, it sounds increasingly  _painful_ , frantic and desperate in a way he's never heard before. And it goes on and on until the echoes died on the fringes of his consciousness. 

But  _why_ ?

After several minutes of silent stewing he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to pull himself back down. He wants to enjoy now, he wants to enjoy being  _here_ , all that other stuff will keep for later.

Somehow he manages to doze off, the three of them snoring together in a pile.

 

 

Author's Note: This chapter felt a little weird, but meh, what can you do. Next chapter we'll be getting down to the nitty-gritty with more Witch lore, some exposition, and hopefully the last bit of set-up I need to get the plot moving again. Questions and comments are always welcome, hope to see you next week!

 


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

He doesn't know how, but he slept through the night undisturbed. Jaune finally wakes, still in the position he last remembers being, to the insistent growling of his stomach. What time is it? It had to be some time between sunup and noon if Nora was nowhere to be seen, and if she was up, Ren was up. With a grunt of protest he works himself out of bed, cringing at the pins and needles feeling in his backside. He leaves the blanket on the small bed and shuffles out of the room, only partly acknowledging the weird, heated pressure that works through him for all of a second when he enters the hallway. His first thought is to find the kitchen, guessing that if it's early enough, everyone would likely be there for breakfast. Plan B would be to check the parlor, as he actually knew how to get there.

For a spell he just listens to the hollow echo of his own footsteps, the dull pop of his bare feet on polished tiles. He feels his thoughts are more stable now, in the proper order -at least as proper as they could be- but they still leave him uneasy. Now that he's slept and the shock of it all has tapered off, he can study everything more critically, and he doesn't like anything his brain comes up with to explain it. It's all impossible if not entirely ridiculous, but he's having a hell of a time writing it all off as nothing. On the other hand, accepting it all and the possible implications that go with it is staggering, and uttering a word of it to the wrong person would be grounds to have him put away for a long _long_ time. Though, now that he's giving it some real thought, it couldn't be much more strange than anything else that has been going on lately. Jaune pushes his hand across his scalp, further mussing his hair before shoving his hands back into his pocket with a shrug. _Maybe Tag would be willing to hear me out and not call me crazy to my face._

Jaune makes his way to the ground floor, feeling a little confident in his choices as he hears voices carrying from the corridor near the foot of the staircase. A part of him is glad to hear laughter mixed in with whatever words are being exchanged. As he draws closer to the end of the hall the conversation becomes clearer; they're talking about the storm yesterday, the subject confirmed with a loose repeat of Nora's exclamation "I'm a freakin'  _magical girl_ !" Jaune comes into the kitchen and sees almost everyone either sitting around the island or propped against the counters with plates in their hands. Ren is at the stove, a big bowl of pancake batter by his arm. 

"I'm cute as hell," she continues enthusiastically, "I've got a  _huge hammer_ , an adorable partner -it all makes sense."

"But did you  _actually_ almost cause a tornado? Just because you were upset?" Weiss is doing her best not to sound like she is trying to trivialize the situation or Nora's feelings.

"You bet your butt I did." Nora seems just shy of too proud.

"I guess you could say our ginger really  _snapped_ ," and Yang just watches everyone cringe, listens to them groan at the pun, their reactions only making her more powerful. "But in all seriousness, Uncle Qrow said you put a real hurt on Cinder,"

"Yeah, and I would've put her six feet under if I had another second." her scowl doesn't project as well as it could have, one of her cheeks full of food breaking up the severity of the expression. "Though she was kind of roughed up by the time I got there, her nose was busted and stuff, and it looked like something cut her -cut her  _bad_ ." Not that she is sad to say it, maybe jealous she hadn't been a part of it.

Jaune is listening in the doorway and shakes his head, still a little shocked at himself. He had really done that and hearing someone else attest to it somehow made it more real, more believable. Still, he'll keep that little medal for himself a bit longer. When he comes out of the distraction he finally greets them, alerting them to his presence.

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Arc?"

"No thanks Aun-" he catches her eyes, and therefore his words, "no thanks. Not until I've eaten anyway."

"Lucky for you Glynda brews her coffee so thick you can chew it, the best of both worlds." Qrow chuckles from his seat, Blake laughing a little as well. Glynda just rolls her eyes. "Here, kid, you can have my seat, I'm finished."

Jaune offers a nod of thanks and shuffles around to the now empty stool, situating himself between Ruby and Nora. Barely a minute passes before Ren reaches in front of him and places a plate full of flapjacks in the space between his hands. "Did you manage to get a hold of my mom?"

"I did, she's glad you made it here safely." Glynda nods before sipping from her mug and cringing in the customary fashion. "I also asked her about the necklace and she swore up and down she didn't know anything about it, said it likely came with her belongings when she moved in with your father."

"Guess that makes sense." But he thinks it doesn't so much for Glynda by the way her face scrunches, there's too much random chance involved for it to make sense to her. But he doesn't voice the thought and instead takes a few bites of his breakfast.

"Though she did confirm that a focus can be made for someone who isn't a Witch, so there's that."

"Focus? Didn't you say I needed one of those?" Nora asks, once more with her mouth half full.

"It's advisable, yes. However, you came into your powers so late, and they seemed to respond to you rather readily once you...composed yourself, it might be moot at this point."

"Oh. Okay." she seemed somewhere between confused and disappointed, but mostly confused. Besides, she had Ren, right? Who needs fancy doo-dads when you've got your best -wish he could be more than a friend- friend? Not Nora Valkyrie.

"Did Maab have anything to say on the matter?" Qrow asks as he lingers in the kitchen, arms crossed as he leans against the sink. 

"I couldn't reach her, but I'll try again today. Likely after we've all had a chance to sit down and talk."

Blake's ears flit with interest. "Who's Maab?"

"My mother." and gives no explanation further than that. She catches Jaune's eyes briefly, seeing a natural curiosity in the look, sensing it too, but chooses to remain silent unless he asks.

And she's right; he's curious, in fact his mind is buzzing with a dozen new questions, but none of them seem important enough to distract him from the thoughts he's had since he woke up. The thoughts that are starting to eat at him and make him anxious. He needs to find Tag and talk about this, he needs to get it out of his head before he starts running his mouth for running's sake.

Maybe Ruby knew, maybe she could feel it, but he mentally flinches when he feels her nudge him with her elbow, looking at him with mild concern when he turns to her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." he responds reflexively, knowing he shouldn't say what he's thinking in spite of how badly he wants to. He knows it would upset her.  _God, what will she say when she hears what you saw? Upset is an understatement._ He swallows thickly, repeating himself and adding a nod. "Yeah."

She appears to accept it, but doesn't look the least bit convinced.

"Goodness, something smells good,"

Most heads turn to see Tag shuffling into the room, her arms stretching over her head and behind it, fingers scratching her neck as she yawns. Her eyes are blurry with lack of sleep and her hair is the perfect mess as always. The girls take turns in offering their good mornings, Yang catching her about the waist as she passes for a hug and getting a kiss on the cheek for her kindness. Weiss seems to subtly pout until Tag hugs her from behind, like she knows, and nuzzles her. "All you have to do is ask, dear." she tries not to yawn in the heiress' face as she talks.

"Hey, Tag, I really want to talk to you about yesterday."

"Of course, Jaune, of course, we will," she responds with a slight slur, "but not until after I'm...more  _here_ ."

"But it's-"

"Please, just a moment, I didn't sleep at all last night, so please," she all but begs, blindly mussing his hair as she passes en route to the refrigerator. She doesn't know what's in there of if she'll be interested in it, but she's going to have a look all the same.

"Everything okay, otter-mom? Billy all right?" Qrow asks gently, his eyes on her as if he can see through the fridge door.

"Still mad at you," she responds initially, "but it's just that I was too worried...about them to get more than a few minutes at a time. But yes, Billy is fine." And only now does she realize that the refrigerator is all but empty, and what little is in there she hasn't the slightest idea what any of it is so she closes it with a huff. "I'm sorry everyone, I'll be myself again after a spell,"

"It's no trouble. Yesterday was rather...rather  _something_ , so don't guilt yourself for dragging a little." Glynda excuses, sounding unusually gracious. "We've got time, anyhow."

"Thank you." Tag exhales, finding an empty spot along the dwindling counter space to lean on. Weiss offers her the last few bites of her pancakes to tide her over until she gets her own. Steadily the Spring Maiden comes around, starting to appear more stable and lively, smiling and laughing as she engages in small conversations. Now more aware, she takes notice of Jaune's obvious and anxious body language. She can feel traces of his aura like a dull vibration, part of her wondering if anyone else is aware of it. Maybe Qrow and Glynda...maybe Ruby too as she keeps glancing at him with worried eyes. She tries to hurry with the remainder of her food, passing off her empty plate with her compliments to the chef, Ren returning the gesture with a gentle smile and a nod.

"Would you like to talk in private?" she offers after garnering Jaune's attention. She's surprised at just how quickly he nods and stands up, the legs of the stool screeching against the floor as he pushes it back.

"The parlor is empty, it's down the hall to the left of the staircase." Glynda inputs before they're out of earshot. "Once you're finished you can meet with the rest of us in the library."

"Thanks, Aunt Glynda." A split second after the words leave his mouth he realizes what he's done. He won't linger long enough to find out what broke this time, outright fleeing the room, simply unwilling and unable to accept the fallout. Glynda just tenses, having heard and felt a thick  _ping_ from the plate in her hand. She wasn't sure how it was broken, only that it was because she could feel the lukewarm stickiness of pancake syrup on the palm that the plate rested on. Her expression is neutral, though gently lined with resignation, but mentally she's screaming.

In time the lot of them would adjourn to the library to wait -that is, the others wait while Glynda conscripts Qrow to help her gather a few things. He follows her around the dozen or more sets of shelves with his arms out, ready to hold book after book that she hands him. The stack will reach his chin before he makes his way to a table and sets them down with an echoing  _thud_ . Glynda isn't too far behind him, only carrying what looks like a rolled parchment that was visibly larger than average -easily as big around as the Witch herself.

Yang chuckles at the pile of literature. "Is there gonna be a test?"

Glynda puts her fists on her hips and nods once. "And instead of detention, a failing grade will get you a trip to the mortuary."

The brawler blinks once, eyes wide, and then goes back to whatever she had been focused on beforehand. Weiss gently clears her throat, "If you don't mind my asking, professor, what is all that?"

"I have a strong feeling I'll be doing a lot of explaining today." she sighs, adjusting her glasses and finding a chair. "On the off chance I don't readily have an answer, this should be enough to fill any gaps in my memory." she situates herself in front of the pile of tomes and starts flipping through the dusty book on the top.

Weiss accepts the answer without further inquiry, folding her hands in her lap as she inhales and exhales. Ruby's sitting next to her, perched on the edge of another table, her feet swinging rhythmically in the empty space beneath it. The heiress can feel a dull chill working through her. Her Guardian is anxious.  _Are you all right?_

_Yeah. I think...maybe...maybe not. I'm worried about Jaune._

_I'm sure he's fine._ and she hopes the little exasperation she feels doesn't carry through their link.

_I dunno. I just get a feeling something...I don't know what's going on, but we're not going to like it._

Weiss tries to smile, tries to reassure her as she reaches out and smooths one hand over Ruby's. She looks back her and still carries a worrisome weight to her expression.  _Like it or not...we'll be all right. Okay? All of us._

_I hope so._

They lose track of time, getting absorbed in menial distractions and tasks. Qrow and Glynda stick to the books, Yang and Blake occupy themselves with the chessboard -Yang is surprisingly good- and Weiss and Ruby continue with conversations in their heads, blushing and giggling quietly from time to time. Ren is content to simply sit and wait even though Nora randomly prods his cheek with her finger to keep herself entertained, at least until it no longer satisfies her and she begins to wander around the room. When that loses its novelty she takes a chance to ask Glynda about "Witch stuff", a little shocked when she actually agrees to it. She'll have just enough time to learn that the season of her birth -which was between summer and fall- has a bearing on her craft, and that her particular type of craft is exceedingly rare before Tag and Jaune finally make their way into the room.

The Otter looks uncertain, that much is clear right away and everyone takes note of it, her very presence bringing a change in the air. She quickly finds a place and settles in it, sitting beside Ruby on the table and taking hold of the end of her tail as it curls across her lap. Jaune causes a similar change in the room, his own obvious distress evident to all those present. He almost looks sick, on the brink of sweating, and he can't seem to lift his eyes higher than the floor. After several seconds of him simply standing there, Glynda leans back in her chair, the aged wood creaking sharply. She tilts her head to look over the rim of her glasses.

"Mr. Arc, are you all right?"

He swallows, his brow tightening a little as he all but fights to speak. "Um...y-yeah, I'm okay. What do you want to know?"

She thinks a moment. "Would it be better if Tag told us?"

"I think it best this comes from him." Tag concedes. "Trust me."

"Be that as it may, if he can't get it out,"

"I  _can_ , it's just...it's a lot. But I'm okay." he sounds like he's trying to convince himself just as much as them. Which is entirely true; it's a lot to accept, to stomach, a lot to dare to say aloud. He takes a deep breath, finding it in him to straighten up and meet Glynda's eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"I'd like to start with a better explanation of what I saw yesterday in the meadow by the tracks." she goes on to give a succinct recount of what she witnessed in regards to the hybrid, Jaune and Tag -for lack of a better word- wrestling with it, and then the bright red seal the appeared in the snow that she did her best to dispel. After which she gave him leave to fill in the finer details.

"Qrow told you it might be human still, right? The Grimm?"

"He did."

"Okay." Jaune nods, again trying to assure himself. "Did he tell you Tag needed to touch it to be sure?"

"Yes."

"Then that's what we were doing. To be honest, I wasn't even sure Tag was going to get there, but I thought if I could beat it down enough, you know...wear it out...then she would have the time she needed."

"And I'm to assume you were successful? Considering what I found when I arrived?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And?"

Jaune swallows again, his eyes cutting to Tag. The nod she offers gives him no comfort, but it does give him the nudge he needs to continue. "Her magic pulled me into it, neither of us know why or how...but I saw what she saw. And we saw...a lot."

"Such as?" there's a thinning patience in the older huntress' voice.

"You're not going to believe it." now he shakes his head, then he gives a breathy, sarcastic huff of a laugh. "No matter which one of us says it...you'll think we're crazy." But one of them  _has_ to say it, it didn't matter who so long as it got out so it could stop feeling like lead on his tongue. Tag knows what he means to say, he can tell by the look she's giving him when he glances in her direction -her saying it would be less believable for them. He knows it. Not that it isn't already ludicrous.

"Come on, kid, we're all friends here. I'm sure nothing you've got to say could be any crazier than some of the other shit that's been going on lately." Qrow tries.

Part of Jaune wanted to laugh at him, a crooked smirk almost appearing on the corner of his mouth. His hands fuss together in front of him as she shifts in place, his eyes on the floor again. He hates the feeling of his heart hammering against his ribs or the way his eyes suddenly have this telling burn. This shouldn't be so hard to say. A part of his brain shudders with more sensible things - _it's just Witch craft, it's all meant to distract you, to make you think twice. It's all just smoke and mirrors._ But, somehow, his heart knows better. His heart wants to risk having a little stupid hope.

Finally, with everyone watching him, he takes another breath. "...I think Pyrrha's alive." And in the same instant her names leaves his mouth he swears the air gains the weight of concrete.

Blake loses grip of the chess piece she was holding, a loud  _clack_ breaking up the tension in the room only to have it double back into place. Weiss tenses in her seat, her fingers curling a little tighter around Ruby's hand. Yang is motionless, looking back at her Maiden as their mental link vibrates with thoughts. Qrow -who feels sufficiently corrected- and Glynda are both looking at him with a noticeable degree of surprise, though it's mixed with some other notion, an unreadable one. Ruby's looking at him too, but her feelings are clearly, unashamedly telegraphed; her brows are raised, eyes wide and already bleary with the onset of tears. Her face almost matches Nora's, in fact. And Ren just stares at his team leader with silent expectation. Jaune catches Tag's eyes again and she's still trying to reassure him.

"Mr. Arc, I'm sure you understand how impossible that is." Glynda has to make the words come, and it's obvious in her tone.

"I...I know how it sounds. But...but,"

"With all due respect, there _is_ no  _but_ . Miss Nikos' death was confirmed by Miss Rose."

"I  _know_ ." He's starting to think pulling his own back teeth would be easier than this. "But I saw... _we_ saw things that...I can't come up with a better explanation." and he knows fully what the look the Witch is giving him is supposed to mean. It means she thinks he's stupid and isn't trying hard enough to find a better answer, just being a boy with a broken heart.

Ruby shakes her head, speaking up before anyone else. "That's not possible." then she hears a stuttering "b-but" and snaps her head up, tears coming as she meets Jaune's eyes and sees him flinch at the severity she puts on him. "I saw it. She's dead."

"I know, Ruby, I know, and I'm sorry I'm bringing this up but...come on...there was no funeral, no burial...no body." and that last part is easily the hardest thing to say.

"Because  _there was nothing to bury_ ," her tone is hard edged, full, just short of yelling, and she maintains steely eye contact with him through it all. She barely registers Weiss gripping her hand a little tighter, or the weight of all the other eyes in the room settling on her, or Yang's worry that she can feel clenching at her own chest. "Cinder didn't leave a body. She..." her throat tightens as the memory flashes painfully across her mind, "she turned her to dust."

Jaune flinches again, but not to recoil from the force of her reply. Instead realization strikes him, his thoughts reaching back to Cinder as well and what she said.  _You miserable sack of ashes!_ His mouth moves silently, forming  _oh my god_ just below a whisper.

"Jaune," Glynda's voice is almost uncharacteristically soft now, "I understand that the last few days have been...trying. I also understand that magic is...well, let's be honest, magic is a shit show sometimes," Weiss gives a shrill gasp at her choice of words, "but you're suggesting something that magic is wholly incapable of doing."

"What about Zerline? I know the story, she made life out of  _dust_ ,"

Her brow knits tightly in the middle. "I'm fairly certain Zerline is long since gone, even if that weren't the case, I'd like to think she wouldn't be foolish enough to dabble in the life cycle like this. This is," Gods, is there a word for it?

"W-wait, wait," Nora chokes the words into the air, "you're saying...are you saying someone turned  _Pyrrha_ into that  _thing_ ?" Tears start down her reddened, freckled cheeks and she looks ready to jump out of her seat. Ren takes her hand, a silent reminder to keep it together if she can. "That thing that's been hunting us for  _months_ ?"

"Something is controlling her, more so someone." Tag says, hoping to take away from the pitch of energy suddenly sparking through the room. "There's no mistaking that."

"How so?" Glynda's gaze shifts to the older faunus. "What did you find?"

"Magic is holding the hybrid together and it felt like nothing I'd ever sensed before. It's resisting whatever is binding it, but the more I tried to figure it out, the deeper the darkness went." Tag slowly shakes her head, remembering the ripping pain and shattering screams, trying to keep her focus.

"S-so Pyrrha's alive?" Nora's eyes move quickly between Tag, Jaune, and Glynda.

Glynda starts to shake her head. "There's no way we can be-"

"It has a semblance -it uses  _polarity_ . Even the way it fights is familiar to me." Jaune cuts in with just enough effort behind his voice. 

"Well, if a Witch is involved, couldn't it just be some kind of trick?" Yang wasn't usually one to be a doubting Thomas, but...

"It's not." Weiss affirms pointedly. She remembers too clearly that awful, gut wrenching terror of Myrtenaster turning against her and trying to drag her to the bottom of the sea. Her recurring nightmares are more than enough to prove that was no  _trick_ .

"And...I saw her memories. I know it's Pyrrha." Jaune finishes.

Qrow's body expands and contracts with a breath. "Look, Jaune, I'd love to believe you -I'm sure we  _all_ would, but..."

"I saw you, Ironwood, and Glynda in Ozpin's office with Pyrrha."

"Qrow could have easily told you about that meeting." Glynda swiftly counters, her jade eyes thin.

"Ozpin asked Pyrrha what her favorite fairy tale was, she said it was the Four Maidens." he remembers those brief seconds vividly by the heavy bitterness in his mouth over the coincidence.

"Jaune-"

"Then you took her down beneath your school and showed her Amber." Tag pipes up again, getting the exact reaction from Glynda that she expects -an appalled and gaping stare. She knows there's no way Tag could have known about Amber, much less about Beacon or its layout to describe the event so accurately. "Another girl that Cinder killed, yes?"

"Y-yes." Glynda sputters, blinking as she adjusts her glasses. "But I'm telling you, Mr. Arc, no Witch or Maiden alive has the power to bring back the  _dead_ ." she insists with a certain finality, as if she expects the notion to at last get through his head.

" _Someone_ did it, and I know because I saw that too," he's almost yelling now.

"So did I." Tag adds soberly.

"Jaune-"

"No, you need to listen," he turns his body square to her, his chin slightly tucked, his eyes severe. "I saw a woman with white skin and black and red eyes, I've been seeing her in my nightmares for weeks, and she can see me too!  _She's reacted to me_ ! I don't know if she's a Witch or what -and at this point I don't care- but I think that she's the cause of all this, and I'm  _terrified_ at the idea that she found a way to turn my best friend into a  _monster_ !"

The room goes quiet, the only sound being Jaune's quick breaths, and somehow the air is heavier than before. His mind's buzzing with all the things he wants to say -wants to scream- but can't find the right order for the words to go in. With a huff he turns on his heels and stalks to where Nora and Ren sit. He means to just stand beside them, but Nora stands once he's close enough and envelopes him in a desperately tight hug. When she lets go she gives him her seat, unable to stay in one place anymore.

Then, after almost a full minute, Tag carefully clears her throat. "But he's telling the truth. I saw what he saw, and there's more."

Glynda takes a breath, trying to recenter herself. "By all means,"

"Jaune and I believe the Grimm is an Old One, namely the one my people have always called the Lion."

"I remember it, back when we saw one another for the first time. We call it Manticore."

The faunus nods. "Yes. But I also remember that though you were able to do away with it...it took your sister."

"...You couldn't have known she was my sister. There's no way."

"And  _I_ didn't. The Grimm did because it was somehow still bound to its maker, and  _her_ memories were part of its own." Tag fusses with the end of her tail, mouth open as if she means to continue. "Through her eyes I saw my mother die."

Glynda just stares at her, her features looking like they're trying to form an expression but are being suppressed. Then her eyes cut to her nephew. "Is this true?"

Jaune's head is in his hands as he rests hunched over his own lap. "I think so."

"Did you happen to see the Grimm itself?" Qrow chances, watching as Tag and Jaune both nod in sluggish unison. "Describe it to me." And while the two take turns offering up the features they could make out of the magic maelstrom that was shot through their heads, Qrow reaches over Glynda for the large scroll she pulled out earlier, all the time acknowledging them with nods and little grunts. He'll open the roll of parchment, letting the edge of it begin to curl in on itself as he looks it over. When he finds what he's looking for he casually crosses the room, first coming to stand in front of Tag. "Is this it?"

"Oh my," her dark eyes flash with a hint of green. "It is. Jaune, have a look,"

He manages to lift his head though it feels much too heavy, blinking at the onset of tears to clear his vision so he can see the scroll. The ink is only marginally faded, but he can clearly make out the stark white, black, and red of a massive Grimm's silhouette set in a formal profile: quadrupedal with massive clawed paws that look hauntingly like hands -opposable thumbs included, thick black fur from stem to stern that's broken up by heavy plates of bone and spines down its back. Its tail looks like a stretch of exposed vertebra that end in a fat, barbed stinger. A wild, blood red mane covers its hulking shoulders, the hair seeming to spring from the back of a skull that's unmistakably human. And, strangely, it looked like the Grimm's chest opened up into a mouth full of fangs.

"What do you think, kid?" Qrow asks when he feels like it takes too long for him to answer.

"Y-yeah, that's it."

"Wait a minute," Yang twists around in her seat, "if you and Qrow killed this thing, how is it still around?"

"The Old Ones aren't like the Grimm you're used to, Miss Xiaolong. They follow different rules, much like Maidens in comparison to Witches. While at a glance they're mostly the same, certain constants don't apply. The progenitors can be subdued to the point where lesser Grimm would dissipate, but in truth they enter a state of dormancy and there's really no knowing when they'll resurface."

"So you didn't actually kill it?"

"No," although Glynda is convinced that's what she just said, "but Raven banished it with my sister's help, or so we thought."

Yang blinks back at her, her brow tightening just enough to notice. She breaks eye contact with Glynda and shifts it to her uncle, replacing the discomfort with curiosity. "That's a pretty fat roll, Uncle Qrow; just how many of these things are there?"

"Maybe a dozen or so." he nods once. "But whoever made the scroll decided scale was important, so yeah."

"Can I see it?" Jaune asks, holding out one hand in expectation. Qrow hands it off, staying to watch a moment as the young man starts to ease through the following entries.

"How many sisters do you have, professor?" Weiss thought it was getting too quiet, and shouldering the tension in the room without something like productive conversation is too much right now.

"Two. Jaune's mother, Gypsy, is the eldest, then there's myself and my younger sister," she hesitates for a heartbeat, "Salem."

Blake snaps to attention in her seat, feline ears straight up. "Salem is your sister?"

"Yes." the Witch exhales, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes. She'll let them rest in her lap for now though it leaves her all but blind.

" _Is_ ? But you said she died," Weiss points out.

"I said I lost her, and as it stands, that is as accurate as I can be." though she's loathe to admit it. Already the weight of all the unspoken and unconsidered implications of this being so real is starting to pull on her, drawing her down into a guilty spiral of  _I should have known_ and  _I should have kept trying_ , on and on. "To banish the Old Ones, Salem hexed Raven so she could use her Semblance in junction with the craft to open a portal to...honestly, I have no idea, but we were able to banish them through it. When we encountered Manticore, the situation very quickly got out of control, so we threw open the portal out of desperation. We exiled the Grimm, but it took my sister with it. I thought Salem was dead."

"She was alive." Tag adds certainly, no hesitation, no mercy.

Glynda tries not to let her discomfort show. "Did you happen to see what occurred after that?"

"I believe so." she's fussing with her tail again. "She killed the Old One...somewhere else, somewhere that isn't  _here_ -if that makes any sense- but, by then, she  _was_ dying." Tag pauses just long enough to turn her head, attention diverted when Jaune pointed out the Old One that had interrupted their flight to Atlas on the scroll. When she turns back to speak to Glynda, she shrugs quietly. "I've tried to make out the rest, but it's difficult. It's almost like...she didn't  _die_ , just disappeared...like being pulled into a fog."

Glynda rubs her eyes again after a moment, putting her glasses back on and crossing her arms in a fashion that makes it appear that she's hugging herself. Too many things are making too much sense now and she doesn't like it -which is rare to say the least.

"And I saw the woman Jaune described, the one with white skin; I believe she and Salem are the same person." Tag knew Jaune had come to the same suspicion, but also knew by this point he felt like no one believed him, leaving her to offer up the idea in hopes of a better reception.

"That's what it sounds like to me." Qrow takes the scroll as Jaune hands it back to him and returns it to the table. "What do you think, Goodwitch?"

"I wish Ozpin was here." she answers immediately, pinching the bridge of her nose as her shoulders tense towards her ears. He would know what to do about this, would know what  _she_ could do about it, and that's what she really needs. She needs direction and all she has are these  _kids_ . She relaxes after an extended moment, her eyes moving briefly from person to person until she meet's Tag's, the look on the Spring Maiden's face making one eyebrow lift. "Something else?"

"Maybe. Remind me what Ozpin looked like? " And she carefully listen to a basic description of the man she could remember but not by name. She nods, allowing herself to smile just a little.

"What? Did you see Oz too?" Qrow tips his chin.

"I think so, and not just from the memories of the hybrid's creator, but from," she pauses, trying to remember, "Pyrrha, yes, from her memories too. Maybe...I don't know,"

"Maybe Salem has Ozpin too." the gruff huntsman finishes for her. "Would make sense, Cinder put them both down that night, not a trace of either one." He doesn't see Jaune's facial flinch at the words he used, the ones making it sound like Pyrrha was nothing more than a sick dog.

"But that  _doesn't_ make sense," Glynda balks. " _None_ of this makes sense. You're all needlessly discussing the  _impossible_ . Maybe, once upon a time, a Witch could do this -maybe even Zerline could, but that was then and this is now. Dead is  _dead_ , that's  _that_ ."

"Well, by the sound of it,  _that_ has changed." He counters gently. "In any case...what else is there? You can sit there and sulk all you want," the look she shoots him is caustic and he shoulders it well, "but I'd like to think they're telling the truth. Whether or not they're right isn't the issue at this point -they believe it, and this isn't something two people like them are going to readily lie about just for kicks. I know it's a helluva lot for you to take in because I know how you are, but that doesn't really change the facts of the matter; it's the only clue we have and if it gets us to Ozpin, I'm willing to go after it."

She stews and scowls in her seat, arms crossed and body tight with her mind humming with countless thoughts as everyone looks at her expectantly. She still wants to stand by what she said  _-none_ of this made any fucking sense- but finds herself caught between equal mounds of evidence in favor and to the contrary of that notion. It's a hellish place for someone like her to be and frankly she doesn't know what to do with it. She hasn't felt this combination of obligation and frailty at the same time since the first class she ever taught at Beacon. Finally she takes the deepest breath she cans, hold it for less than half a second, and then exhales in one noisy push. "I need to process this. Can we change the subject?"

Everyone seemed in consensus to the idea, some a bit reluctantly. Ruby, Jaune, and Nora somehow manage to wipe their eyes at the same time.

"Cinder." Glynda begins, feeling like it needs no further elaboration.

"She disappeared." Nora says after clearing her throat gently. "I saw it; a girl appeared out of nowhere and took her, gone like that."

"What did she look like?"

"I only had a second, but I saw that her eyes were two different colors."

"Like the waitress from the bar?" Ruby squeaks a little, her throat tight.

"That's Cinder's Guardian, I think, she attacked Billy and I on the train along with Cinder." Jaune adds.

" _One_ of them, anyway. She has... _had_ another." Tag catches Qrow's eyes, looking at him with a certain sympathy only to have him break away.

"Where could she possibly be now?" Glynda offers, in a way opening the floor to suggestions.

"Vale's closest, chances are she still has contacts there, at the very least a place she can keep her head down." Yang seems to think aloud, though her eyes move from person to person in search of agreement or approval.

"Good point," Qrow nods to his niece, "if she was as messed up as Nora says, she'll want a place to lay low and lick her wounds. I could go into town and start putting feelers out for her or anyone working with her."

Glynda seems physically relieved to hear him say that as she finally relaxes against the back of her chair. It's talk of action, it's a plan she can follow and put absolutes to, and she's quick to express approval for the idea. "As soon as you're able," she says in congress with three quick nods. "We need to move while she's vulnerable. We won't likely get this opportunity again."

"You want any of us to come with you, Uncle Qrow?" Ruby asks meekly, partly sounding hopeful that he'll accept because all she wants right now is to get out of this claustrophobic room and maybe throw up.

"Not this time squirt. I need to move fast and I do that best by myself. Thanks for the offer, though. You kids sit tight and stay safe." And he smiles at her as he eases to his feet and starts for the door. No time like the present. "I'll keep in touch."

For a spell after he's gone the room is quiet again, though the air isn't so heavy now.

"Can we just...can we take a break now?" Nora chances, rubbing her eyes again. "I need a break."

"Actually...so do I," Glydna agrees, her tone reminiscent of someone who just gave up. "We can...if we need to we can continue this later tonight. Should anyone think of anything worth discussing, it can wait until then."

A moment more and the rest of them resign to the idea, getting up one by one. Team RWBY encircles their leader almost instinctively, protective as Ruby tucks against her Maiden and saying something too quiet to be heard outside of their circle. Blake lingers long enough to ask Glynda to borrow the large scroll and a couple of books on the condition that she brings them back the second she's done with them. They'll retreat to one of the countless rooms in the manor to all but hide, to just be together and support one another until the haze of discomfort goes away. Tag slides off the table, taking a moment to stand beside Jaune and put a hand on his shoulder, hoping he might find a little comfort in it. She can tell he doesn't but it was worth a shot, and she offers him a quiet word of encouragement.

Tag will pause near Glynda before she leaves, all but staring holes into her until the Witch looks up. "Regardless of what you believe, a human being is still tied to that thing. The girl I found is still fighting and we need to do something before we lose her for good."

"I need some more time,"

"And if there is none?" the faunus counters honestly. "I hope you realize I'll move with or without you. If we must, Billy and I will go and do what we must."

Before Glynda can respond she watches Nora march up to stand beside Tag, whatever she means to say aborted.

"Me too. I'll go."

"Miss Valkyrie,"

She puts her hands on her hips. "I didn't really listen to you  _in_ class, so chances are good I'm not going to listen  _out of_ class either."

Glynda's lips thin, thinner still when Ren appears at Nora's shoulder, silent as usual but looking just as determined as his partner. She looks at the three of them in turn and shrugs, resigned. "So be it."

Soon enough the only ones left are Jaune and Glynda, both of them with their eyes downcast to the floor, either one feeling like the other's elephant in the room. When Jaune finally stands up the chair creaks, making Glynda jump a little. The shuffle of his feet across the floorboards is almost deafening and she senses a certain anxiety as he draws closer. She really needed to stop sitting near the door.

Then, without really thinking, "We never meant for this. Ozpin and I...none of us...we didn't mean for it to turn out this way."

He pauses, his hands sifting into his pockets as his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. "Of course not. No one  _means_ for everything to go wrong."

"Jaune we...I'm sorry." apologies never felt right in her mouth and she didn't know why. This is no different. "I'm sorry you lost her."

"Why?" he turns his head just so. "We would have lost Pyrrha anyway. You and Ozpin were going to take her."

"That's not how it was, Jaune."

"I know how it was, Glynda. I told you,  _I saw it_ ."

"Then you must also know that we gave Miss Nikos a  _choice._ "

His face twists into something like disgust, his expression tight. "What kind of choice was it? Really? You keep saying how Ozpin knew more than he let on, and I think you're right. That means he knew the kind of person Pyrrha was,  _he knew_ what she would choose, just like he knew how to spin the conversation to make sure she made the choice he wanted her to." because he remembers that from the myriad of noises and visions he endured yesterday; Ozpin's careful choice of words and his even more careful pressure to convince Pyrrha how dire the situation was and how she was the only solution. "I know I've got a lot going against me, Glynda, but I'm not  _that_ stupid."

She gapes at him, wordless.

"Ozpin knew she would give herself up if it meant sparing someone else - _anyone_ else- and I bet that's why he chose her. So would you spare me the apologies?" He knows she doesn't really mean them anyway. All he's convinced she's sorry for is things not going her - _Ozpin's_ \- way.

Glynda has nothing to say, her mind blank with a mixture of guilt and shocked revelation. Since when did he have a spine? 

She'll watch him leave, still somewhat stupefied until she thinks it better and more productive to brood. The Witch will grow tired of the atmosphere of the library, quickly leaving it once she's certain the hallway outside is empty. From there she'll stalk her way down, further into the house and towards its heart, ducking into one of the other rooms. From the door she'll eye the mirror she had put in here yesterday -her mother's mirror- with a faint notion of contempt in her eyes. Eventually she'll cross the floor and settle onto the cushioned stool she had situated in front of it, propping her elbows on her knees and lacing her fingers beneath her chin in order to somewhat comfortably contemplate her own reflection.

And contemplate the notion of what would happen if she were to try and use it to reach Salem, wherever she was.

 

 

Author's Note: Dialogue dumps are important! The hardest part of this chapter was making sure I kept track of where everyone was, especially during the conversation in the library. In any case, I think I covered most everything I wanted to in this chapter, so yay! Now, I've posted this on Tumblr already, but I'll put it here as well: there was a time when I made videos to sort of celebrate when I finished a fic. I would talk about what inspired the fic, the writing process and research involved, but I would also answer questions from my readers. Seeing as this fic is going to be huge -if it isn't already- I'd like to break the vid up into two parts. So starting today, please feel free to send in any questions you have. They can be about anything, though questions about the fic are preferred. There is a deadline, which will be officially posted once the last chapter of the first arc is posted, so be on the lookout if you're interested. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's 4AM and I need to sleep.

 


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

There's a sitting table against the wall and Blake has been at it almost as long as Ruby and Weiss have been in the bed that's just a few feet away. She's ears deep in the scroll and books she borrowed from the library, following a quiet compulsion to become as well versed in their contents as possible. For the most part they contain entries of journals -first and second hand- in regards to the Progenitor Grimm, records of sightings and encounters and the scant few expulsions of them. As she goes Blake references the scroll, mentally checking off the Old Ones that come up in the literature until she can account for the last known whereabouts of all but one of them.

Yang sits across from her when she's no longer occupied with pacing the room. Blake can tell she would much rather be doing something else, something productive, but knows she also feels the need to be here with them. After the great hot mess that was the meeting in the library, all four of them likely felt the need to stick close and process it, feeding off the security of close proximity. When the brawler  _does_ sit still she'll find something to keep her hands busy, from going over the physical therapy exercises with her prosthetic, to massaging the stump when she takes it off to set on the table for a while and give her shoulder a break. She'll try to play footsie under the table from time to time, happy to return the tolerant smile Blake gives her as she half-reciprocates. Yang then chances to skim through some of the books if for no other reason than to kill time, eventually moving on to get a closer look at the scroll for herself.

"Holy shit," she laughs without warning, "look at this stupid thing."

Blake looks up to see Yang angling the scroll towards her, her felid eyes thin until her vision adjusts. "Oh yeah, that," and shakes her head.

"Aw come on, I thought you'd actually like this one, Blake. I mean, looks tasty, doesn't it?"

"I don't eat  _cat_ fish, Yang. Besides, a Grimm's a Grimm, why in the hell would I  _like_ it?"

"Fair enough." she nods, relenting. "Wonder why we've never seen one like this before, though. Maybe they went extinct."

"Well it must be doing something right, because that's the only one I can't track down with these journals -and they're  _thorough_ . Last the writer heard of it was just before a massive flood in northern Vale."

Yang just inches her shoulders. "Although, now that I look at the rest of these, I'd almost prefer to deal with  _it_ over the others. I mean, spiders don't really bother me, but this one-" she tilts the scroll towards her Maiden again, "you don't get much more  _nope_ than that."

"Tell me about it." the Faunus shivers.

"And what the fuck is this? Where's its face?!" Yang shakes the roll of paper to gesture towards the bipedal, minotaur-esque looking creature with a head full of snakes, Blake visibly concerned for the document under such treatment.

"Give me that before you rip it."

Weiss worries. She has such a longstanding engagement with it that there are times she has to wonder if she likes it. Somehow worrying feels constructive even though she knows damn good and well that it isn't, but it fuels her desire to _do_ something constructive so she takes it as a help more than a hindrance. Worrying is what helps her keep her arms around Ruby even though prolonged physical contact still feels strange, keeps her fingers calmly sifting through her hair to pet her scalp, keeps her doing whatever she has to so Ruby might feel better. It's been several hours since the meeting in the library, the sunlight outside the window of the room Team RWBY has come to occupy has faded into night, and for all that time Ruby has laid tucked up under Weiss' chin as the heiress props herself up on the pillows at the head of the bed. She says nothing, doesn't move, just holds Weiss about the waist with her cheek on her breastbone, and seems to stare at the wall. And Weiss lets her have her self imposed silence, won't even answer the likely symptomatic chiming of their mental link, not without permission first. If Ruby wanted her that close, she would say so.

Not once does she wonder or think to ask why, because she knows. She knew it from the second Pyrrha Nikos was brought up in conversation, her name actually said aloud. Just as she knows Ruby still has nightmares that wake her up in the middle of the night because she feels her Guardian stirring feverishly beside her in the seconds before her eyes snap open and she tries to get her breathing back under control. Just as she knows why Ruby just wants to be alone and cry sometimes, a symptom of the overwhelming guilt she still feels.

And the possibility of the fallen champion still being alive clearly didn't bring her any comfort.

But why should it? Who could possibly find any solace in the situation they faced now? Maybe if things were much different, maybe if they didn't have to stare down the idea that their late friend had been trying to and come frighteningly close to killing them?

_Pyrrha Nikos tried to drown me._ The Winter Maiden shivers, hearing the thought for the first time coming as quite the shock. Another thought surges behind it, something too quick for her stop and equally flooring if not ten times more so.  _Pyrrha Nikos tried to kill Jaune._ If she hadn't seen all the strange things that had been going on lately, and heard what she had heard in the library, that notion alone would have been enough to turn her into a total skeptic. Pyrrha willingly trying to hurt Jaune was just as likely as herself willingly trying to date him. Which is to say not at all. She shivers again, this time in very mild disgust. She'll tuck her chin and press a kiss to the top of Ruby's head, hoping to gain as well as give a little comfort.

_Do you believe him?_

Weiss' expression flickers towards surprise at the whisper that's only in her head, not expecting it.  _Are you all right?_

_I'm getting there._ Ruby's body expands and contracts in her arms.  _But do you believe him?_

_...I don't know for certain, not yet. I mean...there's equal evidence for and against what he said. I know_ _**he** _ _believes it._ And if she were being brutally honest, she would voice how sad she thinks that is.  _Then again I don't think he's ever really gotten over her._

_You expected him to?_

_What? It isn't like they were actually in love. I mean, I know Pyrrha was interested in him, but you know how dense he is._

_That's not what I meant. She was his best friend, we're sure about that much -_ because she feels like beyond that isn't their business anyway-  _and you know how hard Beacon was for him in the beginning...look at it this way, what if we lost Blake?_

Whatever thoughts the Maiden might have had fizzle along their connection, scattering like snowflakes on the wind. Ruby had a point. She and her Faunus teammate had a unique and honest bond. If Adam had been able to...or if Yang hadn't been there...that all but slapped the heiress with a heavy dose of perspective.  _You're right, I'm sorry._

_Nothing to be sorry for. Still... part of me wants to believe it, but for the most part...god, I don't know what to think._

Weiss holds her a little tighter, kissing her head again.  _I think...that is, if you want my opinion,_

_Of course I do._

_I think we should take it as it comes, but be supportive. At the very least, like Tag said, there's still a person that needs our help. Everything that comes after that we'll deal with then._

_I guess you're right. But...what if it's true?_

_...I don't know._ Weiss doesn't know because it used to be that there were certain irrefutable laws of the universe, and if what everyone was thinking turned out to be true, that was no longer the case. It would bring everything -absolutely  _everything_ else into question. As a Schnee she could handle it, it's what Schnees do -anticipate, react, adapt. But as a woman who grew up too fast and has barely had a chance to accept all the times her life has turned upside down just within the last few months...where do you even begin?

_I'm feeling a little smothered._ Ruby's thoughts pulse, her body shifting a little and lift away.

_I'm sorry. I-_

_I didn't say it was because of you._ There are remnants of a little laugh echoing around the notion.  _Not everything is your fault, you know._ And she only teases a little, knowing why she does it and that it's not really a conscious thing.  _It's more like cabin fever, anyway. I've cooped myself up in here too long. Can we go for a walk or something?_

Weiss' brow tightens.  _Where?_

Another mental giggle.  _We could sneak out, it'll be fun._

_Ruby Rose, we'll be doing no such thing._ There's a chime of hesitation though, because it  _does_ sound fun.

_Come on, it'll only be for a little bit, an hour tops, we could just say we're going to visit with your sister. They'll believe it._

On the one hand, staying at the manor with everyone else was the safest thing to do. On the other, time alone with Ruby sounded too good to pass up. Not that she didn't love being with her whole team again, but...you know.

_Well...I guess...but no more than an_ _**hour** _ _, all right? Then we come back here._

Ruby just giggles and nuzzles her sternum before squirming onto her hands and knees to crawl down from the bed. The two slip on their shoes without a word to their teammates and make no big deal in grabbing up their weapons before heading for the door.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." is all Yang says, she doesn't even look up from the book she's reading. Though Ruby can see her smirking from the doorway.

"We'll be careful." Weiss assures her before the pair disappear.

"...Shouldn't we keep an eye on them?" Blake inquires casually, one ear cocking outward.

"Let them have some time alone, they deserve it." Yang turns the page coupled with a dismissive gesture of her stump. "Besides...now  _we_ have some time alone."

Blake smiles comfortably, cheeks rising against tired eyes as she pretends to continue reading.

_Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it when I_ _**know** _ _you have._

Fair enough, Blake eventually nods,  _fair enough._ Flickers of the night of the Solstice had been jumping between them for...god, she can't even remember how long, and the last thing she wants is for her lover to call her a liar to her face.  _So...right now?_

_Why not?_

_...It_ _**is** _ _Glynda's house. Wouldn't it be rude?_

_So? The first time it was Weiss' house, what's the big deal? As long as she isn't in here with us, I don't have a problem._

Blake laughs breathily, lounging back in the chair with an exaggerated stretch after flipping the book closed.

_I'll just have to make sure you stay quiet._

Blake gapes at her from across the table, taking in the brawler's mischievous grin with wide felid eyes.

 

\--

He doesn't know what time it is because he's convinced he fell asleep. It _feels_ late. Jaune sluggishly lifts his face from the pillow, knowing he's been laying face down in one of the bunks on the airship for...hours most likely. As he rolls on his side, carefully as he feels a body behind him, his mind steadily files through the last things he remembers: the meeting in the library, the bitterness in the pit of his stomach, the need to disappear for a while and maybe shake the awful heaviness he felt in his ribs. That's when he found his way onto one of the airships, feeling a need to distance himself from Glynda -from everything- as much as possible to process everything. He plopped down on one of the beds like his body weighed a ton, and was quiet for all of three minutes before he just burst into tears. There's just too much and he doesn't know how to handle it any other way. Too many questions, too many answers, too many things to consider now that he's accepted the weight of everything that's been on his mind for weeks. Just. _Too. Much_. Half way through it Nora came in, likely to check on him since he more or less disappeared. She doesn't say anything, and when he looks up at her he knows why she's really here because she starts crying too, and they both feel with some certainty that it's over the same thing. So they cry together, Nora slumping beside him and leaning against his shoulder until he puts an arm around her and holds on. He feels a little static coming off her, something that feels like her aura, and softly warns her of it. Last thing they needed right now was another freak storm.

When the crying took the last of their energy they managed together on the bunk, Nora's head beneath his chin as he pets her hair because he knows it soothes her, just like it soothes his baby sister. She sniffled and sputtered a little longer, finally calming after several minutes.

"Jaune?" she asked just above a whisper.

"Hm?" it's a mix of a response and the rough clearing of his throat.

"...You cut Cinder, didn't you? I saw it, she was pretty messed up."

He took a breath, feeling her tuck a little closer as he exhaled. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Yeah." Jaune couldn't see it, but Nora smiled. "I'm proud of you. Asshole."

His heart clenched hard as he tried not to laugh. "Billy got her too."

"I know. They told me the story. Wish I could've seen it." she almost laughed, smiling a little wider and swallowing the thickness in her throat instead. "...Jaune?"

"Hm?"

"...What are we going to do?"

It took him a second, but he caught on. His first instinct was to ask if she believed him, but of course she believed him. There's a part of her that simply had to. "Whatever we can. I don't know what that means, exactly, but we'll do it."

She sniffled again, wiping her face on his hoodie regardless of whether or not he cares. "Do you...y-you think we can...get her back?" it sounded like she was pulling against the world to say it.

It took him a spell to answer, because at first he didn't know how, it felt like too big a question to answer too quickly. He didn't want to lie to her, or get her hopes up, but how could he get away with it? It just isn't possible. "I hope so." he finally said. "...We're going to try."

Thankfully she just nodded and nestled against him, going quiet. They fell asleep like that.

Now Jaune is trying to get to his feet without waking her, thinking maybe she could use the extra rest. That is, until he feels a hand at his thigh take hold of a fistful of denim to keep him in place. He just smiles, understanding, but still does his best to coax her out of bed since she's obviously awake anyhow. But it's more likely her grumbling stomach convinces her than his gentle encouragement.

They'll find Ren in the ship's commissary. He's been in here for a long while, it's where Nora left him to handle this mess in his own way like she knows he will. He had been busying himself with folding the napkins into little animals and flowers until he has a veritable garden of them, all the while pushing increments of his Semblance on himself to stay stable. He will do this until he is certain everyone has pushed through their respective emotional recovery before taking some time to himself to process it otherwise, and he shrugs quietly when he allows his mind to recognize just how much he's going to have to sift through.

Still Ren expresses the happiness he only partly feels when Jaune and Nora come into the room and sit with him. They fawn over his napkin figures, Nora has always loved them and Ren is happier still to see Jaune smiling as he examines a few of them more closely. He lets it slip that he's trying to make a peacock next and that has both of their attention expressly on him. When he's finished, the tail fanning perfectly outward and him looking satisfied, the three decide it's finally time to eat. They relax into little conversations, even laugh a little. For a short time they discuss where to sleep, settling on the manor just for tonight though they agree that the place is a little unsettling. The beds are bigger, making it easier to share. Nora politely informs her teammates that she will be sleeping in the middle.

It's pitch black outside save for a pair of windows in the face of the manor and snow clouds have gathered overhead, a few flurries having started coming down as the three of them make their way back to the house. Halfway there they spot two shadows form up against the door, pushing through it after a second or two in a just audible fit of giggles. Jaune is fairly certain at least one of those shadows belong to Ruby, the idea making him smile to himself. Once inside they quietly make their way through the house in search of a bed. As they ascend the stairs to the second floor they pause, a punctuated and rough sound echoing through the large room. Glynda's at the landing above them, appearing to wait, looking uncharacteristically subdued with her chin tucked and without her glasses.

Jaune gently pushes to the front, meeting his aunt at the top step. "Did you need something?"

"I was finally able to reach mother," she clears her throat again, shifting on her feet. "Maab, that is, and we'll be leaving for Menagerie in the morning."

Jaune's pretty sure the face he makes in response is unlike any other expression he's ever held. "...W-why-"

"I haven't been able to contact her until now because she was investigating an incident of a magical nature that she is more than certain I was part of, which means there's a high likelihood of the hybrid perhaps having reappeared there. I've already brought Maab up to speed on the situation and she will be expecting us."

Jaune nods after moment of taking it in. "Alright. Do the others know?"

"I was on my way to inform Specialist Schnee and Holiday, as well as anyone else I pass, but Team RWBY has been updated, yes." she wipes the lenses of her glasses with a corner of her flannel shirt before putting them back on their face. "Qrow will remain here to keep an eye on the house and continue his watch for Cinder, and I'll be joining you."

"We can do it."

"Perhaps," to be truthful she isn't sure, but at this point it doesn't matter. "But...you understand I have an emotional investment in the situation as well. Salem is my sister, and part of this...I can't ignore how much I may be to blame for it."

He nods again, slowly, making sure to hold her gaze though it makes him a little uneasy. He's quiet for a moment, curious if she has anything else to say. Then "We're going to try and save Pyrrha."

"Jaune,"

"I don't care if it's possible or not, we're still going to try." he feels Nora's hand around his wrist and feels a little stronger for it, more certain.

She exhales in a puff of air, resigned. "I assumed as much already, so rest assured I won't try to stop you. In fact, I hope you would accept any help I could give. I know I was...rigid during the discussion earlier,"

"More like impossible." Nora corrects.

"True enough, still...I apologize for making you feel disenfranchised like that. I may not understand what's going on -much less wholly believe it- but I should at least accept that you're sincere about it. I'll try my best to have a little more faith."

"Thank you." Jaune says flatly, feeling unable and somewhat unwilling to fully accept her apology. "Goodnight, Aunt Glynda."

Everyone pauses, waiting for something to happen and receive the echoing clatter of broken glass from somewhere in the house. Glynda shrugs with a hanging shake of her head. "Goodnight." is all she says as she makes her way down the stairs as was her original intention. The three young hunters make their way to the nearest bed, only fussing a little with the friendly sleeping arrangements before settling in for the night.

 

In the airship infirmary, after Glynda has relayed all the necessary information and lights have gone out for the night, Tag squashes herself between the wall and her Guardian and doesn't feel the least bit uncomfortable. It'll be the best night's sleep she's had in weeks, surrounded by Billy's incredible body heat, the dull vibrations of their snoring, and the stable rhythm of their heartbeat. She gives little energy to the worry of what the medic said, that now that they've had one heart attack they could be prone to another -a bigger one- because she knows as long as they carry her mark they'll be all right. And she doesn't mean for them to be separated like that again.

What worries her more is her inability to completely put away all the echoes of what that poor girl had going through her. All the pain, confusion, and desperation had been at such a ferocious frequency that it still rings through her skull, through her bones. Tag doesn't even know her and her guts are twisted up with the need to act and the hope that there's still time to do so.

Billy sleeps unmoving and unbothered, having dozed off content and confident that Manticore would not be so fortunate as to escape the next time their paths crossed. Human or not, they meant to put an end to it.

\--

The day starts too soon, Glynda taking it upon herself to rouse everyone from their beds before the sky even begins to gray with sunrise. She all but rushes them through breakfast all the while trying to give them an idea as to the day's itinerary: The flight to Menagerie is nearly ten hours which, provided they left on time, would get them there by late afternoon. That -she hopes- will leave enough daylight for Glynda to have a look at what Maab had found for herself and suss out the nature of things. Otherwise, she makes sure to explain that the lot of them are to conduct themselves as professionals since all but three of them are going to be considered foreigners and therefore watched with greater scrutiny -and considering uniformed Atlesian Specialists were in attendance, a certain degree of care could not be stressed enough. Ruby feels Weiss' tension through the haze of still being somewhat asleep, almost hearing the worries she knows are creeping through her thoughts. A _Schnee_ in Menagerie, who'd have thought? Ruby takes her Maiden by the wrist and offers her an assuring smile, hoping it helps. Blake and Yang are staring at them, both grinning like cats in the cream. They know what they were up to last night, mostly because they were up to the same thing and they know the looks new lovers give each other. Yang catches her sister's eyes for all of a second, just long enough to shoot her a wink that makes her blush.

The sun still isn't even close to coming up when they all split up and board the airships with parting hugs and wishes to take care and for good luck. Ten hours is plenty of time for things to go wrong, after all. Thankfully the trip is uneventful enough for most of them to catch a few more hours of sleep. The only snag they hit along the way is having to take the long way around a stretch of sea situated between two of Mistral's southern island territories and one of Menagerie's. Supposedly a number of ships disappeared there -whether or not that was true, there was no need to risk it. The detour puts an extra hour on their flight, much to Glynda's displeasure.

In spite of the anxiety fluttering in her chest like a caged bird, Weiss' curiosity gets the better of her. She stands in the cock-pit behind the pilot's chair, watching the green and gold of Menageries jungles and beaches coming closer as the craft makes its final approach on the southwestern side. The rest of the team is with her, which helps -Blake's presence being especially comforting, but she can't stop her hands from fussing together.

"Do you think anyone will recognize me?" she can't help but ask.

"I don't think you'll have to worry too much." Blake eases up beside her, offering a hand on her shoulder. "According to Glynda we're going to a less developed area, so it's possible no one's ever even heard of your family."

"Really?" she looks back at the Summer Maiden with genuine surprise, partly from her words and partly for her now exposed feline ears.

Blake nods, a little amused. "Really. At most someone might have a radio, emphasis on might."

"Yeah, Weiss, remember when you told Tag who you were? She wasn't impressed," Yang adds.

"Well, yes, I suppose."

"But think of it this way," Blake inches a little closer, her arm stretching across the heiress' shoulders in a light hug. "This is could be your chance to build a whole new relationship between Faunus and the Schnee Family."

"You really think so?" most of the anxiety looked to have been replaced with a sort of quiet hope.

"Has to start somewhere, right?" and Blake returns the smile Weiss offers, hugging her a little tighter when her smaller, fairer skinned hand smooths over her own.

"Brace yourselves for landing, ladies." the co-pilot announces.

 

A few Faunus scatter as the airships descend on the beach, disappearing into the thick cover of trees only a few yards from the water. Once stable on dry sand the passengers waste no time disembarking, momentarily crowding together to clarify where they're headed. The air is heavy with moisture and just warm enough to make you sweat, enough to make Yang put her hair in a ponytail less it become an absolute mess. Thankfully it's a short walk through the jungle to the nearest village where Maab is supposedly waiting for them; all present Faunus take joint lead of the party in hopes of keeping the locals as untroubled as possible. At first there's no sign of anyone, even the few that fled the beach seemed to have disappeared into the dense jungle growth, and Tag and Billy assure them that's the point; too many times over too many years have outsiders come to Menagerie and brought some sort of disaster with them. Here in the jungle, once you know how to walk, you're taught how to hide. Drawing closer to the village ahead they start to see them, traces of ears and tails and the glimmer of eyes among the leaves and branches, but the humans present do their best not to telegraph their awareness.

The trees and vines eventually open up into a clearing that stretches farther than they can see, mostly due to the stilt houses constructed from wood and leaves and held together with vines blocking the view of the far side. Families fill the windows, children shouldering for a place, only half hiding as they stare at the pod of strangers emerging from the jungle. There are some trees left in the cleared area, ancient and powerful looking things with shelters built up in their highest branches where there appear to be -at a glance- bird Faunus looking down. Some residents still linger just within the treeline, watching from where they feel the safest.

On the east side of the village is the only structure not made from whatever the jungle offered, and looked to built from the red clay that's more common in the barren areas of the subcontinent. It's two stories with rounded edges, though its roof is just like all the others -made from woven branches and leaves. There's an awning over the main entrance of similar make, and as they all come closer they make out the shapes of at least two people standing beneath it, make that three after one of substantially smaller stature steps out from the silhouette of another.

The three beneath the awning are obviously Faunus, even at a distance. Two are exceptionally tall, one more so due to his impressive rabbit ears, but it only gives him half a head over the other. He's deceptively thin framed, almost bony as his simple clothes hang on him, and his rich dark skin creases with age around his eyes. Graying, tightly cropped hair surrounds his mouth and covers his head, though the fur on his longer ears is a dull red. Beside him is another aged Faunus, a stocky, stable looking woman who's once stark black hair is now white with only a few remaining strands of gray. The horns sprouting from her temples as well as the robust redness of her skin is reminiscent of a certain Guardian. And between them, the smallest one -perhaps four feet tall, is a blonde, visibly Mistrali woman with shockingly fair skin. Large vulpine ears shift atop her well restrained hair, likely alerting her to the crowd of footsteps coming their way.

Glynda is unconsciously smiling, part of her admitting to having missed her mother. She steadily advances to the front of the pack as Maab approaches them, then kneels down once they're close enough to embrace her. The gesture is brief, only somewhat sincere seeming, and the two women smile each other in an almost formal way.

"Glad to see you made it safely." Maab nods, the lenses of her glasses catching the light of late afternoon. Then her happiness shifts to slight confusion. "I had no idea you were bringing so many with you."

"I told you the situation had grown considerably." Glynda lilts her head. "But it's mostly out of necessity, I don't believe Vale is safe for them at this time."

"Fair enough. Can't be too careful with Maiden's involved. Now, please, come inside, there's lots to discuss."

Glynda cocks her head as Maab turns and starts away from her. "Don't you mean to show me what you found?"

"Not necessary," the smaller Witch just continues walking. "What we need to focus on is what to do next, that and perhaps giving me a few of the finer details in regards to this fresh hell we're dealing with. Now, if you would,"

Glynda straightens and shrugs, her shoulders remaining tense for a moment. Now she remembers why she and Maab didn't maintain contact: they're too damn much alike. A notion only reinforced as she catches someone -likely Yang- whispering "Holy shit, that _is_ her mom." But it doesn't stop there. "So that means," a sharp exhale, "holy _shit_ , Jaune, that's your grandmother," and Yang just smirks at the look Jaune responds with, his eyes wide.

Maab stops and half turns with a sharp twist of her little body. "Who's a grandmother?"

"You are." Glynda sighs. "Didn't you know Gypsy had children?"

"She keeps in touch with me about as well as _you_ do," Maab raises one eyebrow.

"Well, maybe if there was a reliable way to reach you-"

"Oh shush. Now where's this grandchild of mine?" Maab just lets herself in to the pod of bodies, pushing at their thighs to move them aside.

"They'd be mine too, Maab." The Rabbit Faunus steps out from under the awning, into the light and closes the distance between them with relaxed steps. "Good to see you, Glynda."

"Likewise, Mr. Quetshadee."

"Please, just Rusty." he wants to hug her, but he accepts the handshake she offers instead. He knows she's not the affectionate type, especially considering he isn't her father. "So which-" Glynda steps aside a little as he rises to the balls of his feet to have a better look.

"Oh, she had a _son_!"

Jaune's eyes shoot downward, his brain a little slow to accept the Witch standing in front of him at all, much less that she is his grandmother. In the back of his mind he had been expecting a lot of things, but every thought paled in comparison to the reality presented to him. All he can do is stare, though his jaw works to try and make him say something.

"Come down here, boy, I've got glasses for a reason." Maab curls one finger at him until he bends at the knee. She holds his face in both hands, turning his head this way and that to a few restrained snickers from the others. "You're _sure_ he's Gypsy's?"

"Well he certainly isn't _mine_." Glynda scoffs. Rearing children -or the act of acquiring them- had _never_ been on her list of things to do. _Never_.

"But you see the resemblance, don't you?"

Rusty moves to stand behind Maab. "Those are my daughter's eyes if I've ever seen them." and he seems fond and proud to say so. "But he _clearly_ takes after his daddy. My girl still with that traveling musician?"

"Y-yeah." Jaune chokes out finally. "Noah."

"Yes, yes, Noah, now I remember. He was always so sweet to her. " he nods. "So what's your name, grandson?"

It's funny hearing it out loud. "Jaune."

Maab jerks his attention back to her. "Are you an only child?"

"N-no, I have seven sisters."

" _Goodness_ ,"

"Stop fawning over him, Maab, we've still got work to do." Rusty taps her shoulder, hoping it's enough to break her all but obsessive focus.

"Don't you mean _Faunus_ -ing over him?" Yang couldn't stop herself. Blake is hissing chastisements over their mental link but they go mostly ignored -maybe because the resounding groan is so loud.

However, Maab just smiles as she turns to look at Yang, who she assumes made the joke since she is the only one not cringing. Then she laughs. "Oh I like you."

"Mother, no."

"Don't be such a poop, Glynda, it was funny." she dismisses her middle daughter with a wave of one hand. "But Rusty's right, let's get inside and get to business."

 

The third Faunus beneath the awning had waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt though part of her wanted to. But finally, as the party of mostly strangers began to follow Maab back to the house, she took a step forward and to the side to be in Billy's direct line of sight. Once the Guardian is close enough they open their powerful arms to sweep her up, pulling her stout body an inch or two off the ground in a solid embrace.

"It's good to see you, mother. I've missed you." Billy takes in her scent, the feel of her, holding fast for a moment before setting her down. "...But why are dressed like this?"

"You've been gone almost a year, Billy, you can't expect everything to stay the same." Her eyes shift down, going over herself. Like most who live in the deep jungle, clothing had been mostly optional, if not minimal. Now she stands there clad in leather and hardwood armor, flint knives strapped across her thighs and chest, and a stone club holstered on her back. "I'm the elder now, and we needed more hunters after you and the Maiden left."

"I'm sorry."

"You did what you had to, just as we did."

"What about Matt and Elo?"

"They're doing their best but there simply aren't enough of us yet." she shakes her head, her fatigue showing. "Even with the Witch's help the people are still terrified, still feel unsafe."

"Well, with any luck, it won't be this way much longer. We think we might have finally tracked down the Lion and mean to put a stop to it. For good if all goes well."

She doesn't respond immediately, her lips thinning into a line, perhaps uncertain or just disbelieving. "What about the others that came? The ones with the guns?"

"That...isn't as simple as we thought, but we will discuss it later, alright? Perhaps tonight if there is time?"

Reluctantly she nods. "Very well." She hugs Billy again and then the two of them follow the others inside.

 

Author's Note: God, that last part felt AWFUL. I don't know why it was so hard to write it! Anyway, chances are good that the next chapter will begin the endgame for the first act, so you can bet things are about the get real...crazy, to say the least. Though I've got a little more Witch lore coming your way as well as a little bit closer look at Maab, but after that it's all downhill. And, at this point, I almost HAVE to write a steamy White Rose spinoff, lord knows I hinted at it hard enough. But who knows when that's coming. Enjoy!

 

 

 


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

Ruby had known Maab Renard for approximately two-point-five minutes, but had already elevated her opinion of the Witch to near divine when she set foot into her house and let her eyes adjust to the change in the light. Once she processed what she found inside her jaw dropped and a gasp drew itself slowly, reverently into her lungs.

Maab is a great many things other than a Witch and a mother; there was a time when she was a well respected huntress, mapmaker, and blacksmith in spite of her compact stature. But not only had she made a number of weapons, she is also an avid collector, and her home is decorated wall to wall with her seemingly countless acquisitions. All sorts of armaments from various eras and regions of the world; innumerable varieties of blades -swords, daggers, chakrams, even scythes in a myriad of sizes- bludgeons and shields grouped together by either type or age or their peculiar style. Ruby's attention at the moment is wholly ensnared by a dual-ended pole-arm, the blades of which look to be fashioned from bovine skulls. After that it was a longsword that is actually vertebra fused together in such away that the jutting parts of bone lined up to form the edge. Maab swore it could cut just as well as steel.

The young huntress continues through the adobe house with the rest of the pack, freezing again with the same thunderstruck look at the piece that's mounted across the entryway to what is likely the dinning area. She feels the need to cover her gaping mouth with both hands and does just that.

"I think Ruby's in love." Nora chuckles. Weiss only seems momentarily ruffled by the comment, the notion there and gone again once she realizes what her Guardian is gawking at. It's a scythe - because of course it is- with a handle made up of winding coils of wood that had become dry and dark gray with age. But, strangely, ivy still appears to twist from the thick knot of wood at the butt of the weapon to the edge, leaves as green as ever. The blade is long and sleek, the metal having a brushed finish that caught the light and little else, pristine.

"It's beautiful,"

Maab has doubled back, visibly amused and curious, her grin widening. "That's likely the oldest piece in my collection. Possibly the first of its kind, or so I heard." she says as she stands beside Ruby, her arms crossing as a look of satisfaction comes over her. "The blade is solid silver."

" _No_ ," Ruby gasps.

"Yes, and supposedly there's a crystal of raw Dust hidden inside it somewhere."

"Where did you find it?" Somehow Ruby's eyes have gotten impossibly wider.

Maab clears her throat and adjusts her glasses. "If I told you, chances are _certain_ present company would likely be rather cross with me." And though they are related by nothing more than some loose form of marriage, Glynda and Rusty both made the exact same face in Maab's general direction. The older Witch just laughs it off. "But what I _can_ tell you is that legend says it belonged to Zerline's eldest."

"The first Witch who died?" Jaune speaks up, his mouth working faster than his brain.

"Oh, you know that story?"

"A version of it, yeah."

"Smart boy; stories that old likely don't have a one way to tell them. And not only the scythe, but what Glynda told me has been going on made me think of that in particular. I suppose Gypsy told you she just died?"

"Killed by Zerline's darkness, the first Grimm." he nods once.

"In a way, yes, at least in the version _I_ know."

"I don't know if we have time for this," Glynda interjects.

Maab's ears snap back. "You're as bad as your father, always in a hurry."

"There was a time when you were like that too." She counters gently.

"Yes, but now I'm old and tired and I want to tell my grandson and his friends a story. But, if it will make you happy, we can walk and talk at the same time."

"I'll put dinner on while you conduct your business." Rusty says as he lingers next to the roughly hewn stairs.

"Many thanks love."

Jaune pauses, on foot on a step and the other still on the ground floor, looking curious. "Mom said you and Maab split up,"

Rusty chuckles. "What, people our age can't reconcile? Now get along before they leave you behind."

Maab leads them upstairs, taking them two or three at a time with little bursts of aura as she recites the more commonly heard version of the first Witch's death. It's almost word for word what Jaune remembers his mother telling him.

The second floor's only room is hauntingly reminiscent of the heart of the house in Glynda's manor. Trinkets and nick-nacks hang from the walls, crowd shelves, and fill several locked chests that take up residence in the corners. Framed photos and maps take up most of the wall space, one in particular arranged in an almost shrine -the portrait of a blond, bearded man in the middle, flanked by a sword and shield that looked to be made of some incredible purple crystal with a golden crown insignia in the center. Glynda had been wondering what happened to them.

"Mother, why are you keeping all this here? It's unprotected."

"As long as I live, nothing in my house is unprotected." Maab brags a little. "Still, it's so remote, the only people that would think to look here deserve to go toe-to-toe with me anyway."

"You should have sent it to the house." Glynda grumbles as she studies her father's portrait.

"Well, if things are as unsafe in Vale as you think, maybe it's better I didn't. Now, everyone here? Everyone listening? Good."

She goes on to tell them all the supposedly _true_ account, told to her by a Witch, who knew a Witch, who knew a Witch that had claimed to have been there when it happened. It might have been easier to believe if Maab had explained a Witch's enhanced lifespan beforehand, but she's quick to rectify that. From there she quickly delves into the story as she was told.

"You see, everyone, what you're dealing with -as far as I understand it- _has indeed_ happened before. Zerline's eldest did die, but not in the traditional sense. She was consumed by the blood of the Mother Grimm and transformed into something else, a creature called Jabberwocky. Zerline's pain had been the force behind the magic that sealed her darkness in the mirror."

"Jabberwocky," Blake's ears prick atop her head, "that's one of the Progenitors."

"It is." Maab nods. "And it's also my understanding that it was the same Grimm that attacked Beacon. So this is not entirely unheard of -as much as I wish it was."

Jaune feels a cold shudder in his chest, his memory sparking back to the dragon-like Grimm that had all but decimated the academy. Was that going to happen to Pyrrha? Would she eventually become the creature he saw on the scroll, that awful, faceless horror of a thing? He feels a little static prickle across his skin, somehow knowing it's coming from Nora who stands just behind him. Is she thinking the same thing?

Glynda watches her mother cross the floor towards something propped against the wall and concealed with a stretch of heavy cloth. "That's a rather incredible assumption, even for you." And a part of her brain winces, realizing how contradictory she's being, especially after what Tag and Jaune told her what they had seen.

"It's not an assumption, I know what I'm talking about just as I understand the weight of it." She glares at her daughter. "What I _don't_ understand is why you have to keep being such a damn skeptic. You, with all your experience and everything I taught you, yet these _kids_ have more faith than you do." She knows because she can see it in their eyes, some filled with fear, others filled with a keen understanding that simply can't be explained.

"Mother,"

"Zerline is _real_ , just as the Mother Grimm is _real_ , and no matter how much you want to deny it, it has taken control of your sister - _my_ _**child** _ _._ " she has to stop to breathe, her comfortable confidence suddenly shaken and her features flickering with pain. "You think I'm saying this lightly?"

"Of course not," Glynda exhales.

"You're damn right _of course not_ ; I tell you I'd rather Salem be _dead_ than what she's been turned into. I'd sooner cut out my own heart than it be this way, but that doesn't change the fact of the matter."

The air in the room is easily twice as heavy as before. Most of them exchange anxious glances at each other as they're simply unaccustomed to Glynda being browbeaten like this. Now everyone can see where their former professor gets her expert tongue-lashing abilities from.

"Maab, please," Billy's mother speaks up gently, much to everyone's surprise, "now's not the time."

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm sorry." she composes herself by going through the automatic behavior of rubbing her eyes and adjusting her glasses. Then she clears her throat, her hands moving behind her back so they don't fuss where everyone can readily see. "Fortunately enough for us, as it stands Salem is unable to leave the realm beyond the mirror, that gives us the advantage of time. Regardless of whether or not she knows we're coming, she has nowhere else to go."

"Wait, you're suggesting we actually-" Glynda's jaw hangs slack as her mother cuts her off with a nod. " _How_?"

"When Witches used mirrors to travel they had to pass through the between, the realm beyond or whatever you want to call it, but were unable to actually access it unless under very specific circumstances. One of which is the nature of the mirror itself; to my knowledge only two of these types of mirrors exist, the first being Zerline's own."

"And the other?"

Maab smirks as she finally reaches up and grabs a handful of the draped fabric, pulling it down to reveal what lay underneath. "Kiriin -that is, Salem's father- left it to me when he died, supposedly it's been in his family for decades."

It's seven feet tall and flawlessly carved from a solid chunk of what looks like black, volcanic glass. But a spot of light reflecting from one of the other relics in the room reveals a rich viridian coloration. According to Maab the focus had been made for a pair of Witches, conjoined twins, and that was an integral part of what made the mirror special, made it powerful. That as well as the fact that it was crafted from a crystal of exceptionally rare Dust.

"You have your focus with you, Glynda?"

"Always."

"Then you should be able to go to and from without any trouble. And unless anyone else here has a focus, the Maidens present should be able to as well."

"What about our Guardians?" Weiss chances.

"If they're marked there shouldn't be a problem."

"They're not ready," Glynda counters resolutely, shaking her head.

"We don't have a choice." the elder Faunus replies, her tone flat yet biting. "She needs to be stopped, not just for Salem's sake but for Remnant's. This could be a chance to tear out the roots of the Grimm for good." And if noting else, that last reason should have been enough to bring everyone in the room to consensus. Ending the threat of Grimm is the primary purpose of every hunter, after all.

"But again, mother, _how_ ? If the First Grimm is involved, what do you expect us to do? All we know is that _it is_ ,"

"Yes, _it is_ , but it also needs a host to act. Use your head, girl, if you take away its host, it's no better than any other Grimm."

Glynda bites her cheek against something vicious, something only a grown woman has the guts to say to her own mother.

"And you said you had a plan, Glynda," Maab continues, almost accusatory, "what of it?" But she knows by the way her daughter glares back at her that she's just shy of too angry to speak. Whatever she might have thought to say has just gone up in a cloud of smoke.

"S-silver," Jaune stammers, unsure of where his sudden but feeble confidence came from. He still feels like the least qualified to say a damn thing, he doesn't even feel like he has the right to be here at all, but a part of him can't stomach Glynda being badgered like that anymore. "Silver magic seems to hurt the Old Ones pretty bad."

"It's true," Tag adds as she moves from behind Billy so Maab can see her. "I couldn't sense Manticore's host until Ruby hit it with her magic."

"Is that so?" her brow furrows at her fellow Faunus before her dark jade eyes shifts until she spots the young huntress that she can only assume was Ruby. Her red cape is all but a name tag, and sure enough the Witch catches a sterling glint in the girl's curious gaze.

"Yes, and again with this most recent encounter with it. It was Billy that time and they were able to break up its armor, that seemed to weaken it considerably."

"Enough for Jaune to hold it on his own until Tag reached him." the Guardian contributes, glancing over to him with a little pride lifting the corner of their mouth when they catch him looking their way.

Maab takes a moment to think, letting notions roll around in her head until they find their proper place. _So there's perhaps a chance._ "Then why not take Billy with you, Glynda? They seem experienced enough,"

"I won't ask them to leave their Maiden behind and I'll be _damned_ if I take Tag with me to Salem's front door. That's too big of a risk."

"Now wait just a minute-"

" _Later_ ," Maab stops the Otter before she can gain too much momentum. "But that doesn't leave you with many other options."

"Why don't _you_ come with me?"

"As much as I would prefer to -hell, knowing me I would have tried to do it myself by now if I could- I can't. If something goes wrong I am the only one who can use the mirror. I would be your only way out."

"But I'm a Witch," Nora waves one hand in the air, drawing all the attention to herself, "couldn't I use it?"

Maab seems to perk up for a moment, pleased to see another of her kind in the room. "You could, but not like _I_ can; it's one of many awful and silly rules that us poor women have to abide by to keep the universe from getting its knickers in any _more_ of a twist." Which, if she were to guess, the wedgie of upset that the cosmos is feeling right now is likely just short of atomic.

"You might as well accept it, Glynda," Yang cocks her hip, one fist resting against it as she shifts her feet. " _We're_ all you've got."

"But you're _not ready_." she can feel her jaw clenching, her teeth threatening to cut her words in half.

"It doesn't really matter at this point, we came all this way anyhow and we're going to do what we have to, ready or not. Besides, it's our job, isn't it -not just as hunters, but as Maidens and Guardians?"

"She's right." Blake is just beside her, one hand slipping into Yang's prosthetic grip.

"Agreed." Weiss couples her vote with a curt nod and a straightening of her spine.

Glynda looks at the girls one by one, a mixture of pride and frustration and dread pulsing through her at their resolve. "I suppose...you all feel this way?"

"I think we do." Ruby answers for them. "So what do we do from here? And what about Pyrrha?"

"Who...is that, the name sounds familiar?" Maab's ears, like her eyebrows, are funnily cock-eyed.

"Manticore's host," Glynda adjusts her glasses after stabilizing herself with a breath. "She was once one of my students -one of my best in fact."

"My, she _must_ have been _quite something_ if you're delving out such a high compliment." Maab seems genuinely shocked.

"She still _is_." strangely, almost unnaturally, Weiss and Jaune say the same thing at the same time, catching a glance from one another before looking away just as quickly. Yang whispers "Jinx."

"But you said you felt my magic somewhere in the jungle," Glynda continues, "that leads me to believe that Manticore may have reappeared in the area. I disabled one of Salem's seals and something...I can't really explain what happened, but the Grimm disappeared. My powers have never done that before."

"Well, I can tell you I didn't find much when I went to check it out; it's monsoon season so whatever _had_ been there was mostly washed away. There were some tracks, a great deal of them I could pick out as Grimm that are common to these parts, but I could smell traces of blood that was -at the very least- a little human. Perhaps you're right, and if that's the case I can only imagine what it may start to do if it's given enough time to recover."

Glynda nods as she crosses her arms, taking a few steps from her place for no other reason than to move for a change. "We have to draw it out somehow."

Jaune clears his throat, almost forcing himself to speak. "N-not necessarily. She might even be on her way here already." Jaune feels the weight of eyes on him, feels the heaviness double when he sees the obvious fear in Billy's mother's gaze. He continues after a short pause, knowing the coming questions before anyone can ask. "Mom thinks she's after me, but I think it's bigger than that. I think she can track Maiden's auras too somehow. So she'll be coming soon if she's able." And part of him prays she isn't.

"Now _that_ stands to be quite the problem, doesn't it?" the question is purely rhetorical, likely Maab's knee-jerk reaction to information of such serious nature. "And we haven't much time," she watches as her daughter just shakes her head. "Nature's grace...what to do,"

"Jaune and I can lure it here." Tag offers.

"I'll be damned if you set yourselves up as bait for that thing," Billy half growls, the response quick and biting.

"That's not up to you." the Maiden snaps back in equal measure. "Besides, you make it sound like we'd be alone, I'm not that stupid."

"Tag, I didn't-"

"We can get Matt and Elo, plus your mother is here and Maab if she's willing. And don't forget Jaune has a pack of his own; if it's the hybrid we're after, they have a right to be here."

"And what about Salem then? None of us can be in two places at once." Then they have a second thought. "...Unless...that's a Witch thing?"

"Not for any of _us_ , I'm afraid," Maab sighs, disappointed with her ears down and out. Blake considered saying something about how her Semblance had changed, that maybe she actually _could_ , but her sense of self preservation snatches the thought right out of her head. "But Tag and the girls make an excellent point...though splitting up isn't the route I would take under other circumstances."

And by the stern look on Glynda's face, neither would she. But, as it's been established already, they don't have much choice. "So who goes and who stays?"

"Team RWBY's with you, Glynda." Ruby announces, hoping her former professor would return the confident smile she's left with the brief misery of feeling like a lost puppy.

Maab nods subtly, beginning to scan the room. "Any objections? Anyone else wish to go that actually _can_?

Other eyes in the room exchange slowly, contemplatively with one another, and thoughts jump across ethereal links back and forth from their respective ends.

"Perhaps five is enough," Glynda almost hums to herself, "then again it might be too much. In any case, we'll need to move fast; the sooner we get to her, the less time she has to summon any of the Progenitors against us."

"As long as it isn't the giant spider, I don't care." Yang shakes her head, laughing unsteadily.

"How will we know where we're headed once we cross through the mirror?" Weiss asks.

"We won't, unfortunately. For the most part just the existence of this place was subject to debate, and even when the reality of it was accepted, no one thought to map it. Likely due to a lack of accessibility coupled with the indiscernible nature of the place." Glynda explains. "We're walking into this as blind as can be."

"Oh...wonderful." the heiress swallows. "Then what about Pyrrha?"

"I've been thinking; perhaps if we can subdue Salem, whatever magic she has over her will break."

"She was terribly injured," Tag intervenes, worry setting her brows tightly. "Destroying the magic could kill her if we can't reach her fast enough."

"So we would have to lure Manticore in _first_ ," Maab's chin dips with every other word, like she's measuring them. "We wouldn't be able to hold it long, it would either summon more and more Grimm until they overwhelm us, or the villagers would panic and that -I can assure you- is _not_ something you want."

For a moment the older Witch just listens as they all murmur between themselves, half arguing at points and half reasoning at others. She's beginning to see what Glynda had been so worried about and feels herself sharing the sentiment, though quietly -most of them are just kids. How on earth do _kids_ get caught up in these things? Most if not all of them are likely still virgins, maybe having yet to even fallen in love -she has no idea just how wrong she is- yet here they are, stepping up to something so big. They certainly had guts, she would readily grant them that, but she also knows they're going to need every last inch of them to get through what's coming. _Nature's grace..._

 

_(II)_

 

Still holed up in the dockside warehouse, the Fall Maiden manically paces the small room while her Guardian sleeps on the cot against the wall. It's been almost two days and Cinder hasn't slept, at least not deep enough to matter anyway. The lights are out but the smoldering glow of her eyes marks her patterned steps from one end of the room to the other. Steady, almost calculated breaths pass hotly through her flared nostrils, just shy of becoming steam in the wintery air that permeates the walls from outside. The steel panels occasionally shake, a reminder of the snowy storm front that's moved into the city. Once it breaks, she'll send Neo out to look for Glynda and those damnable kids. But until then she seethes, stalking through the dark with hardly a stitch on because her skin simply can't stand the feel of clothing.

Her legs no longer twinge with pain at the slightest pressure, but the cut across her back still grinds against her nerves with even the slightest too-deep breath. She doesn't want it to heal fully, not yet because she wants to remember that idiot boy's easily forgotten face. She wants to remember it so the next time she sees him she'll be instinctively ready to rip it from his skull and send it to his mother in the mail. Or, even better, she will deliver it herself and then gut the sow that pushed him out so she couldn't make another little shit that looks just like him.

Her steps pause as her jaw clenches steadily, her fingers curling into her biceps like claws as her thoughts jump from that worthless bastard to Salem. Cinder has had enough of the old bitch pushing her around and threatening her -that much she's certain of. There was a time when she would have stomached it, back when she still needed the Witch to get what she wanted, but that time has passed and with it Cinder's need to restrain herself. She means to make Salem pay, but how?

Of course Cinder could cross over and take Salem on her own turf and terms, but she immediately shakes the thought away. Foolish, to say the least, and if she took Neo with her, she would still be at a disadvantage -as talented as the sadistic thief is, she couldn't handle what Salem was likely capable of. Even as a Guardian, she's leagues behind. But she refuses -simply _refuses_ \- to just hide. She had done enough of that before Salem found her. _No one threatens me. **No one**._ She starts to pace again, her muscles loosening with a burning twinge across her back.

_No. Just the two of us couldn't do it. But..._

It might be a long shot, she thinks, but she's gambled big before and won. The hardest part would be...yes, but once she got that far, the rest would be easy as lying.

Cinder brings her attention to focus, carefully easing around the room in search of her clothes, sitting on the pile of garments once she's fished the small, old mirror from the pocket. Her back hits the steel panel of the wall sooner than she expects, ripping a sharp intake of breath between her teeth at the sensation of slapped sunburn. She focuses through it, bottom lip between her teeth. As she pushes a meager pulse of magic through the relic, she calls a small flame to her other hand so she'll be visible should she get an answer. Little by little she'll increase the intensity of the energy she's putting into the mirror, little by little until, after several minutes, she knows the other end should be literally burning a hole in someone's pocket. She offers up one more heated burst, making sure to put as much urgency as she can into it.

Cinder's image in the mirror shudders, rippling out of sight as the glass clouds over. For the briefest second the Fall Maiden grins in satisfaction, but quickly covers it up with a tight half-grimace and as much visible vulnerability as she can. Eventually, Emerald's face comes into the glass with in-person clarity. At first Cinder doesn't say anything, waiting as she can tell Emerald is trying to comprehend her appearance -it could make or break this conversation. As powerful and in-control as Cinder had felt for the last year or so, she wondered if she could still sell looking hurt.

"What happened, where are you?" Emerald finally asks.

Cinder feels a touch of relief but doesn't let it show. "I was worried when you didn't answer." she starts tightly, "I thought something had happened to you." and she watches as Emerald's suspicion softens. She's taking the bait.

"I'm fine, what's going on?"

"Neo and I were," she takes a breath, faking a charge of pain, "we were ambushed." Now she sees the genuine concern and a sort of reluctant fear. "We'll be all right, just...they hit us pretty hard."

"What happened?" she asks again.

"I almost had them," she laughs breathily, "I was this close...but then Salem's _thing_ turned on us, almost took my head off." Cinder continues with a feigned wince. "We can't trust her anymore, that leaves us vastly outnumbered. We... _I_ need you."

On the other end of the ethereal connection, Emerald feels her heart clench while her thoughts tear at each other. She feels the need to respond, to buckle to her secret feelings and go to her. She's hurting and vulnerable and she knows those are two things Cinder hated to be. And she would _never_ admit to needing someone, not in a case like this, unless it was an absolute necessity. But something in the back of her mind is clawing, begging that she stands fast. It's demanding she destroy the mirror and never look back, leave the Fall Maiden to the bed she's made and forget her. Because if she doesn't, she'll just be drawn back in and trapped by something too big to get away from twice. It's a devil's bargain to say the least.

Still... _I need you_ rings in her head and she can't bring herself to ignore it. "Where are you?"

"Vale."

Emerald swallows, her lips a thin line as she weighs her worries one more time. "I can be there in a few days."

"Contact me again when you're close, I'll tell you where you can meet us."

She nods. Then she shrinks a little, her image in the mirror appearing to tense, hesitate. "...Have you heard from Mercury?"

"Not since I last heard from you." she lies flawlessly. "Aren't you with him?"

"...We got separated. Haven't seen him." her answers are quick, bracing for the scolding she expects. She watches Cinder inhale and exhale slowly, but no flash of anger.

"Just get here safely, we can talk about it later."

"Alright. I'll keep in touch."

Cinder will wait until her other Guardian's likeness dissipates from the glass before she lets her hand drop to her side and finally allows the toothy smile that's been perched on her lips to show. She tries and fails not to laugh, oh so satisfied with herself and wholly amused by the gullibility of some people.

 

 

 

Author's Note:  So, yeah, this chapter was strange, but here it is. You want to hear something funny? The next chapter is approximately where I intended this fic to actually BEGIN. That's right, story got in the way of the story and my hand slipped for thirty-six whole chapters. Isn't that something? Anyway, I honestly can't say when the next chapter as well the remainder of the first act will actually be out, because I've got a shit ton of fight scenes to write as well as last minute plot logistics to finalize. Gotta figure out who lives and who dies and all that. Please, PLEASE, if you don't mind and have the time, constructive criticism as well as suggestions are highly appreciated and encouraged. Want something in particular to happen? Want me to bump off/spare a particular character? Drop me a line and let me know, let's talk! Lots of love, and many thanks for the support!

 


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

If you follow Menagerie's largest and longest river from its mouth on the southwestern coast, follow it inland along its narrow throat and through countless Otter dens and thick colonies of mangroves to its heart, there are waterfalls. Their centuries long onslaught against the ground below carved out a yawning chasm, the roar of their decent echoing through the space as water strikes water and feeds the pool that feeds the river. At the bottom of the impossibly deep pool is an incredible deposit of raw Dust, jutting crystals as black as midnight, the crown of the second largest vein in all of Remnant. More than large enough to start a war over.

The sheer, cylindrical walls of the chasm are shot through with Dust as well, the concentrations pocking the exposed earth like dark daggers; those nearer to the surface catch sunlight at certain hours and dazzle the shadows aside with shuddering flickers of green. One such cluster opens up, the captured light lingering in the rough hewn entryway like a specter that comes and goes at the same time every day, every year, since it came to exist. It's close to the withering edge of the chasm, and when it rains, water conceals it completely. It's why the Progenitor chose it for its den -concealment and accessibility. It's why it returned here after centuries, to hide and sleep after having gorged itself on its lesser kind.

It has done away with what was left of that useless armor and held fast to what it could, fixing bone plates directly to the skin where it's black essence bleeds through and manifests like a layer of jet ink -the veins now matching, keeping it thickest on its vulnerable back and ribs. It had to shorten its tail, but was able to better stabilize it with weight and girth, the once singular barb now a set of four glimmering spikes and fixed to a cluster of bone just shy of too solid and too heavy. There are more spines on its back as well, smaller, not as sharp, but still deadly with the taste of poison.

Manticore sleeps deeply and dreams, though it never has before. Grimm don't dream. There needs to be a soul to dream and it most certainly didn't have one. Surely it's the host -it feels a little closer to the skin now, not necessarily one with the human but not entirely apart. It had no choice but to bind itself tighter to her life force, drink of it that much deeper or it would have died. Now it sleeps with visions of humans -some it knows, others it doesn't- and the sandpaper scratch of unconscious feelings stirring in its host's exhausted brain. It sleeps, coiled up on a huge shard of pitch Dust, and slowly, steadily mends itself.

The tail twitches, a little jerk. Relaxed fingers flex inward like a lazy trap, unconscious with the dull click of claws against bone.

_Jaune_ ...

It doesn't know the word or what it means, only that it has been pulsing like an electric heartbeat through its dreams for hours now. Maybe it's what the host calls one of the humans it keeps seeing as it sleeps, yes, maybe it's a name. A stupid name, the Old One decides bitterly. All the other words sparking through the aether must be names too, and again the ancient Grimm deems them stupid -though, admittedly, it plays a little mental game trying to match them to the blurred faces in its dreams, just for a moment of entertainment before coming to the conclusion that it's irrelevant because it intends to kill every last one of them. Slowly. Horribly. Toying with them as a proper predator does with prey too frail to slaughter right away. That is, if there's anything left by that point.

_**Jaune** _ ...

Another flinch, this one almost hard enough to jar it awake. But it isn't ready for that, it needs more time, a few more hours at the very least -maybe even until tomorrow night. And the host needs to be fed soon or else it couldn't continue the hunt at all. It could feel... _something_ out there in the jungle, something just far away enough for its weakened senses to notice. It feels like hot static, a heat that raises the small hairs on its host's neck and resonates through the still tender hand print lingering warmly beneath the blackness on the young woman's skin. It feels alive, and where there is the bright, abrasive energy of life, it would bring death.

But first, it sleeps. At least it tries while ignoring its dreams and echoing thoughts.

_Numb-nuts..._

Especially that one.

 

_(--)_

In the beginning, their main concern was the safety of the villagers. They could do all but put concrete numbers to the amount of damage that was bound to come about once Manticore was flushed out, never mind the extremely high risk to the Faunus who called this place home. They came to the conclusion that evacuating them would be the best option, but the difficulty was quickly found in trying to answer the how and where of the equation. Having them gather on the western shore was explained away as a bad idea -if worst came to worst, it would just leave the survivors with the choice of dying to Grimm or to the sea. The nearest village wouldn't be much better, the populous was even thinner there and mostly made up of families doing what they can to survive. Might have to evacuate them as well, no telling just how bad the situation could get.

West Shore was a ghost town during monsoon season, everyone moving inland to weather the torrential rains and high waves. Likely they were the best prepared should things get truly out of hand. Beyond that, it was miles upon miles to the next village, further still to anything resembling a proper city with protective measures against Grimm. When it seems all other feasible options are written off, Blake mentions the capital and that there's a chance her parents would be willing to help. She's reluctant because it's awkward; she hasn't seen her parents or spoken to them in...quite a while, and it hadn't been under the best circumstances that she left. When Maab realizes she's a Belladonna, her glasses almost fall right off her face with surprise.

Eventually it's decided to at least make the effort, and Blake, Yang, as well as Billy's mother take an airship to Kuo Kuana which is perhaps a half hour's flight away. The rest remained behind and continue to suss out what preparations they could, waiting until their return later that afternoon -thankfully successful. With some quick math they believe it may take almost three hours to fully evacuate, though they can shave that time easily if the airship pilots are willing to push themselves a little. More still as the smaller, satellite homesteads declined the offer, preferring to die in their homes if that be the case.

Then came the matter of who stays and who goes, this being the cause for the majority of the arguments. Glynda is convinced she can handle Salem alone, while Maab has no reservations in telling her middle daughter in excruciating detail just how wrong she thinks she is -"Glynda, I love you, but we've been over this; you're being quite the idiot."

And while willing, the other members of Billy's pack -Matt and Elo, a Tortoise and Raven Faunus respectively, along with their mother won't be able to accompany Glynda either; the villagers needed them more. This only drives home Maab's point even more which, naturally, doesn't sit well with Glynda and only makes her resist that much harder. Makes it impossible for anyone else to get a word in while the two Witches snap at each other.

From time to time Rusty sneaks up to the top floor where they are, keeping them well stocked on tea and traditional orchati, laughing quietly at his grandson's excitement to try it and the subsequent face he makes when he's not quiet ready for how strong it is.

They continue to fuss in circles long into the night -after a point it just became a waiting game to see who would concede first. Neither of them look ready or willing to give in, they could easily go at this until sunup, and everyone in the room can sense it. But there simply isn't time for this, and finally Maab pulls her ace in the hole and offers Glynda an ultimatum.

"Break your focus right here and now and I'll let you go by yourself." and while no one could possibly know it, Maab is wholly confident of the outcome. Glynda won't do it, she knows she won't, her daughter is too fixed on maintaining control to go that far just to get her way. And she gives it a moment, watching Glynda's expression shift a handful of times -from quiet frustration, to heavy consideration, and then defeat- before nodding once. "The two Maidens and their Guardians are going, end of discussion."

"That was hardly a fair deal, mother."

"And this is hardly a fair fight; you're going to have to stack the deck in your favor if you want even half a chance." And again she watches her, feeling a certain softness as Glynda nods, obviously reluctant. "I know it's hard for you to rely on others aside from yourself, but it's your only option. Besides," her jade eyes ease across the room, lingering momentarily on the younger girls, "these kids deserve at least a  _little_ more credit than you're giving them."

Glynda says nothing, only inches her shoulders, dismissively neutral. But it's enough to change the energy in the room, the tension in the air no longer thick enough for a knife.

After a moment, Billy clears their throat. "Now what about the Lion? Am I to understand you mean to  _catch_ it?" they wait to see several nodding heads. "And then what? Where the hell do you suppose we keep it, supposing that's even possible? And what if we can't undo the spell that holds it to its host?"

"Maybe we can convince Matt to stay." Tag tries, "I know the villagers need him, but I think his Semblance would give us an advantage." And she's a little surprised when Billy agrees to the idea. "Could you talk to your mother?"

"I could, but let's assume she won't allow it. Then what? Or another thing, what about all the metal around here? Once the Lion picks up on it we're...how do the humans say it... _screwed_ ? We're going to have to move fast, and for all we know it might not  _allow_ us to catch it."

"We're going to try anyway." it's the first thing Jaune's said aloud all night. "We have to. I don't care if we have to go into this barehanded, we're  _going to try_ ." 

And he doesn't see it, but if Maab were smiling any wider the top of her head would surely fall off. " _Thankfully_ that won't be necessary. I have countless armaments here in the house that aren't metal, so that's not the issue. However I also agree with Billy, they raise valid concerns. This will have to be swift and precise, the margin for error is all but nonexistent, and we're already at a disadvantage with it coming to us and having the chance to bring whatever reinforcements it can muster up along the way."

"Then maybe we find and raid it's den?" Glynda suggests cautiously.

Maab just shakes her head. "Too long to do that, I think. No reaching it by airship and even following the river would take us days, and if it  _can_ sniff out auras, it'd be on us before we even knew it was there. And you tried that already, didn't you?"

Glynda's expression flinches with a bit of guilt but then goes neutral again. "Very well. So we set a trap."

"Seems to be our best option." Maab nods once. "But what sort of trap do you lay for a creature like this? Mind you, Rusty can catch anything, it's his trade," then she laughs, "but it might take more than a few little snares to do this job."

"I could turn this whole jungle into a trap if I wanted." Tag tries not to sound too proud of the fact, because she isn't. Power that big isn't something to gloat about. "But we could set up several around the border of the village. At the very least we might be able to slow her down if she tries to flee or trip her up along with any other Grimm that follow her in."

"I can hold her with my Semblance too," Jaune adds meekly, unsure. "I-if push comes to shove."

"Then that will be a job for the three of you, though Rusty will be more of a supporting role -as much as he likes to think he's still sixty-years-young, he simply isn't. Still, he'll be there for you in a pinch. I'll be minding the house but also as a sort of backup for you should matters get desperate, and whoever is left will have to hold off the lesser Grimm until the Progenitor can be subdued."

"Am I to assume Team RWBY and I will be within the mirror at this point?" Glynda queries as she adjusts her glasses.

"I've been considering that. As we've already established, this is going to have to go off without a hitch, and I just can't see it being done without trying for two goals at the same time. If Salem's magic is part of what made the hybrid, it needs to be undone if we're to do anything other than kill it. And even though we _all_ might want to march off into that mirror, not all of us can. I _wish_ I had a better plan, truly, but I don't."

"It's just as well," Glynda deflates, "we've been around that bush several times already, no point in going again. So...when would we begin?"

Without conscious thought, everyone in the room takes a breath.

"Soon, naturally." Maab exhales. "Is the morning  _too_ soon?"

Heads turn, everyone looking back and forth for arguments or agreements. Tag is slowly nodding after a second. "Rusty and I could begin laying traps while the villagers are being shuttled out. By the time they're gone we should be ready, and then we can try luring the Lion to us. Gods only knows how long that'll take...if she falls for it in the first place."

"I don't think it has a choice." Billy counters, sounding comfortable in the assumption. "It'll show."

"She's not stupid, Billy," Jaune argues, "she isn't going to just walk into a fight she can't win. If she's still able to know when to cut and run, she'll be able to work around an ambush." And while the older Faunus doesn't contest it, he can tell by the dismissive lilt of their head that they don't really accept it either.

"Then perhaps it would be better for us old folks to hand this conversation off to  _you_ , grandson." Maab intercedes, "That is, you and your team, seeing as the lot of you would know best what to expect."

Jaune makes the face of someone who had just been spotted after trying so hard to go unseen -wide eyed with his jaw working noiselessly, surprised. His head swivels sharply on his neck, exchanging brief looks with Ren and Nora who seem to wait for him to speak. Then his gaze snaps back to his grandmother, his face no different than he looked away. "I-I...I mean, what's...Pyrrha is the best -the best in the world. I don't know how to explain that, and I definitely don't know how to prepare for that. I'm no strategist, hell, I'm barely a huntsman."

Glynda has to consciously restrain herself from openly agreeing. Now's not the time to throw him under the bus like that.

"I mean," his chin drops like his gaze and he shakes his head, "how do you prepare for someone who's always several steps ahead of you? Pyrrha had it down to a science, like every step was second nature. What are we supposed to do? What  _can_ we do?"

Maab doesn't answer straight away, though it's obvious she's thinking about it. Her vulpine ears perk and then start turning atop her head as inspiration steadily pulls her mouth into a soft but wide grin. "Barely a huntsman, you say? Jaune, have you ever heard the proverb of the champion's one fear? It's fairly old, so I can imagine you don't." she watches him shake his head, smiling a little wider. "To put it simply: champions do not fear the second best, or the third, or even the tenth; they fear the worst of the lot as they are predictable as the wind."

He blinks once, twice, three times before he tries "I...think I get it? But...I just don't see how that helps us."

"Well, after a fashion I'd be willing to bet this girl could figure all of us out in a fight, and if she's as good as you all say she might even be able to roll us over. And then there's  _you_ . She can't possibly think ahead of you because who knows what you're thinking? You can't anticipate something that might not be there."

"No, I get it, just,"

"Hey," Nora cuts in, her hand cupping his shoulder, "remember what you did to Cinder? Even  _she_ didn't see that coming." And she holds his gaze, hoping the worry on her team leader's face would eventually change into something more hopeful. It never does.

"She's right." Billy tips their chin. "Cinder didn't fight like a proper hunter, either, after a fashion she fought to kill, yet here you are. She even pulled one over on  _me_ , and I'm nearly  _thrice_ your age with the experience to support it. With that being said, if  _any_ of us can somehow pull this together and make it work, it would be you. Maybe by some small miracle, but it won't matter so long as we finish the job."

Now Jaune blinks at Billy. "That's like...probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Even Tag seems visibly impressed.

"Well, it's the truth, but you should know I'm banking more on your apparent idiot's luck than your skill."

"Fair enough." he sighs, expecting no less.

Ren lilts his head. "He's made it this far." and couples it with the smallest smirk, a gesture Jaune returns because he knows Ren means to encourage him.

"So between you and Rusty, this place should be a disaster looking for a Grimm to happen." and the little giggle coupled with the enthusiasm and excitement visible on Maab's face is more than a little unsettling. It's the look of someone wanting to pick a fight after too long of going without -which isn't far from the truth at all. Because Maab Renard may be old but she isn't dead, and she could be quoted to the notion that a good fight is just as good if not better than a good lay.

"But is he going to able to build a cubic ass load of traps in the course of a few hours?" Yang has to ask, but does so through a half-stifled yawn. "I mean, even if he rolls all night,"

"Oh, of course," Maab waves her hand, "that's nothing. You'd be surprised how simple some of his rigs are, and yet Grimm are still dumb enough to walk right into them. And with the Spring Maiden backing him up he could likely do it in his sleep."

The conversation steadily dissolves after that, the hour much too late to carry on much longer. The group breaks up into smaller pods, some going downstairs to find a spot on Maab's living room floor, others -namely Billy and Tag- venture out into the village to speak with Billy's mother. Glynda remains on the top floor, contemplating her father's portrait. Ruby and Weiss risk the walk back to the airship on the beach because the Winter Maiden simply wasn't sleeping where she was such easy access to countless biting insects -were it not for her aura, everyone would be able to see the little red spots left behind by gods knew what. Although Ruby had gone completely untouched, something Weiss was unashamedly jealous of. Blake and Yang didn't seem to mind it, the brawler likely too hot natured for bugs to risk getting too close to her  _or_ Blake, though the Faunus does have to flit her ears at a high pitched buzzing every now and then.

Jaune elects to stay awake a little longer with his grandparents, getting a crash course in trapping from Rusty along with a few initial ideas as to what types to lay and where to set them up. One that catches his interest in particular is Dust laced threads that Rusty meant to lay beneath the stilt houses where it's big enough to crawl under, just concealed beneath a thin layer of soil; if anything should set foot on it the thread will immediately start popping like a string of firecrackers. Troublesome, potentially harmful, but far from lethal and mostly meant to foil any Grimm attempting to sneak around. As he talks Jaune can almost hear his mother in Rusty's stout accent, and by the same token, whenever Maab looks over the rim of her glasses at him, he sees a little of her there too.

Ren and Nora have piled themselves into a corner of the living room, nestled beneath a blanket with their backpacks set aside as pillows for when they eventually lie down. Nora is just too anxious to sleep yet; even if Ren couldn't sense it grinding like sandpaper against his aura, he'd know it plain enough because she  _clings_ to him. Mind you, this is nothing new, but the way she tries to all but crawl under his skin is more than telling. Tucked under his arm she has both of her own around his chest, one hand a fist in his shirt as she tucks her head beneath his chin. Both her legs have locked around one of his, and from time to time she shudders. She's anxious and afraid because tomorrow just feels huge and terrible and the sooner she falls asleep, the sooner she'll have to wake up and look it in the eye. The sooner she falls asleep, the sooner she'll have to start having nightmares about what it's going to bring. Ren lets her feel it for just a little while before toning it down with little pulses of his Semblance while his hand smooths along the length of her spine, just enough so she can finally sleep.

 

Morning comes too soon. Jaune is quick to sit up as he feels Rusty shaking him, all but awake as he searches for his boots. Maab has prepared some food which he and his grandfather are quick to shovel down. From there they head out into the village to meet with Tag and start laying the remainder of the traps -Jaune leaves Ren and Nora to sleep a little longer, knowing they need it. The Otter Faunus is just coming in from the tree line as they emerge from the house, drawing their attention with a curt whistle and a wave. In the dull gray of almost dawn the three of them get to work. As they go, Jaune tries his best to remember and apply what Maab said about him last night, gently suggesting laying some snares in less than ideal places -places only an amateur would bother with- as well as arranging a collection of triggers for a single trap. Rusty and Tag catch on rather quickly, trying to take his lead which is shocking to the young huntsman.

Everyone else is up and about when they return to the house, finishing up the last of the food and as well their own preparations. The air inside has gotten heavier, and if it hadn't been tangible, it is certainly visible in the obvious tension everyone seems to be quietly carrying. Nora, as far as Jaune can tell, has it the worst; she's withdrawn, quiet, and mostly still which is everything she usually  _isn't_ . He's confident that he doesn't need to ask or imagine what's bothering her because part of him is all too aware, but once he accepts the notion, he can feel the weight of it on his own shoulders.

Billy walks in looking to be in a pleasant seeming mood with a fresh layer of black and white Dust paint on their face, the reason becoming apparent as everyone took note of the second Faunus in their shadow. Matt is short -coming up to Billy's sternum much like Tag- with big, square feet, tree trunk legs, a barrel shaped torso and big, meaty hands. Thick, bone looking plates the color of river stones cover his back starting from the base of his neck, disappearing beneath the brightly colored sarong tied to his waist -his belly pushes over the woven belt just a ways, but he's hardly what anyone would call fat. He doesn't jiggle when he walks, except for what he had always affectionately referred to as his "boy boobs". Ornate black tattoos adorn his sides and shoulders and forearms, rich darkness against warm brown skin. The outline of a new one is etched across his face, still red lines framing his high and round cheeks and soft jawline. His lush and curly black hair is tied back tightly from his face, exposing the streaks of gray for all to plainly see. His weapon hangs in part from one shoulder, a solid bone hook -likely harvested from a whale or some other such giant thing- that is nearly as tall as he is. Attached to its blunt end is a thick and heavy stretch of braided leather that he has gathered up neatly and hung from his belt.

After a quick round of greetings and proper introductions, Matt joins with Maab and his pack mates in the kitchen where they fill him in on the finer points of what all this is about. Imagine the look on his face when he hears they mean to catch the Lion as opposed to their original intent to destroy it. Naturally he thinks the idea is ludicrous, and he can see it on Billy's face that they agree but aren't willing to say so out loud, and the expression remains in a way even after he's given an explanation as to why.

His muscular arms cross his chest and he shakes his head, uncertain trouble darkening his usually easygoing features. "It's not that I don't believe ya, Tag, y'know that isn't it. But... is it worth putting us all at risk again? Wouldn't it just be better to put the poor kid out of her misery? I mean...it's Nature's way -shouldn't dead stay dead?"

"Were the circumstances that simple, I'd agree with you," the Maiden concedes, "but it just isn't. I have to help her, I don't have a choice, you know that." then she takes in a chestful of air. "Look...I'll understand if you can't do this, you lost family to this too, but I  _truly_ wish you would help us."

After a moment he shakes his head again, but he's smiling reluctantly. "Y'know I can't say no to ya."

"Yes you can."

"No I can't." He laughs, a little puff of air that makes his shoulders bounce. "Even if you weren't pack leader, I love ya too much to disregard you like that. So...what do y'need me to do?"

 

From there it is a matter of waiting and making the final arrangements until the airships returned. Everyone who intended to stay behind began to strip themselves of any and all metal, offering it up to Maab and Rusty for safe keeping. The Witch in turn presented each of them with a different weapon or bit of armor made from either bone, stone, or hardwood. Glynda nearly has a heart attack when Maab comes down from the top floor with her father's amethyst breastplate and sword in her arms. Before she can get any words out, Maab shakes her head and cuts her off.

"It's the best armor available, Glynda, and if my grandson is expecting to take a lot of hits, I'm making sure he has the best chance of getting back up. I love you, dear, but this isn't open for discussion. Now, Jaune," she stands in front of him now, her back to her still fuming daughter, "let's get you out of that coat -how the hell do you stand to still wear it?- but Osric was a bit of a stilt so it might not fit right if you have it on underneath." she doesn't give him a chance to respond. "In any case you can put it on over the armor, it'll think you're not wearing any at all and  _that_ will work in you favor. Hm, looks like it hangs on you rather well," she has him holding it place as she looks him over. Then she quickly moves behind him, having to jump to grab the thick leather laces and pull them, closing the straps tight to Jaune's back. She ties a particularly snug knot and then pats him on the back of the leg to let him know she's finished. "And here's the sword, whoever made it didn't balance it properly so it might be awkward."

Jaune takes a hold of it in his dominant hand, finding it lighter than he expects. "...Feels fine, actually. Although...does it actually cut anything?"

"You think I'd keep it if it didn't?"

"..."

"Good. Now I'll have to go get the-,"

"I've got it." Rusty announces as he reaches the bottom of the the stairs, the matching shield tucked under one arm. He crosses the floor with no visible hurry, though he seems a little surprised when Maab steps aside to let him through. "Here you are, grandson, might be a bit heavy."

"It is, but not much more than my shield. Thank you."

"Excellent. Now, Rusty, would you fetch Ulthane out of the bedroom?"

"For  _who_ ?" and he laughs, his gray brows going cockeyed. "None of these young'ns are tall enough to ride that ride,"

"Our Storm Witch is,"

"No." Nora shakes her head without hesitation, taking a step away from where she's been standing, her posture shrinking like a skittish animal. "I can't. I'm sorry. I just...I can't."

Jaune looks at her, catches her gaze and sets a sympathetic expression. "What's wrong?"

"I just...it's  _Pyrrha_ . How am I supposed to..." she tucks her lip between her teeth, anxiously hugging herself and pumping her hands up and down her biceps. "She's still my friend and I still love her and I can't do this and-and-and-" the rest just won't come though she tries.

Jaune feels himself deflate, his heart breaking a little. He turns to her, chances a step or two until he sees she'll allow him to approach. "I understand how you feel." he turns the blade towards the floor before taking it in his shield hand, leaving the other free enough to coax its way into her shaking one. "I wish we didn't have to do it this way, but we do. It's probably going to be one of the hardest things we'll ever have to do," he takes another breath, not continuing until she looks him in the eye. She looks like she's about to cry. "But it's like you said, it's Pyrrha. I love her too, and I want to help her no matter what,"

Nora drops her chin, breaking eye contact as she chokes down a sob. "You can't expect me to hurt her,"

"And I don't." he takes another step, his voice softening. "I don't. Just help, okay? Just help Tag do what she has to do, that's all. Please."

She's quiet for a long moment, mostly still save for the few seconds she gives to look at Ren, perhaps in search of something. Finally she wipes her eyes across her forearm and sucks it down, lifting her head to give her team leader a half reluctant nod. "Okay. I can do that."

"Thank you."

Only then did Rusty do as Maab asked. Turns out Ulthane is a hammer of comparable size to Magnhild, maybe a touch larger with a head of solid, pitch Dust and a stone handle. Naturally she hefts it like it's nothing, and all Rusty can do is stare before muttering "these kids" under his breath. Lastly Ren is given a pair of flint knives to take Stormflower's place. He's grateful, the blades are roughly the size he's accustomed to, but he still longs to hold his guns.

It isn't long at all after everyone is armed and ready that the telling, dull roar of a passing airship rolls over the village, drawing their attention up towards the ceiling on a reflex. Then they all just look at each other, feeling the energy in the room change in the blink of an eye. Rusty and Maab are the first to move, the two heading up the staircase and speaking in low tones back and forth. Glynda is quick to follow, certain Team RWBY wouldn't be far behind. And they won't be, but they don't make a move for the stairs until they have offered up hugs and wishes for good luck to the others.  _Good luck, look after each other, do your best even if you don't think it's enough, be careful, Otter-mom_ -fairly standard. Then the two teams split, going their separate ways to attend their separate tasks.

On the top floor they can see the mirror has been moved against a different wall, uncovered and still inactive. Maab perches in one of the open windows looking down into the village, no doubt watching as the others move into place. Once she knew Manticore was close she would open the mirror, and while her own aura is spreading out as far as it can like little feelers for its presence, she is also counting on Tag's signal, the Spring Maiden would likely know it before she did. So they wait, quiet and anxious.

 

There's an unsettling feeling amongst the early morning mist, it's much too quiet. This is prime hunting time for some predators, same for foraging prey, but there's no sign or sound of anything moving out in the treeline.

Already Tag is reaching out with her aura, tentatively pushing it along with small doses of magic to get an initial feeling of what's around her. What she feels matches what she hears: nothing. Whatever wildlife usually roams this area has long since gone, as if the animals know what's coming. She pushes further, still finding not even a flicker of moving life, and feels confident to let it go as it pleases. She'll eventually settle to stand near the center of the village, at the trunk of one of the towering trees and watch the others moving into position in her peripherals. Billy and Jaune are closest to her -the short pelt on her tail bristles when she senses the young man's aura mingling with her own- and Nora and Ren were somewhere behind her. Matt used the great length of his hook's tether to pull himself into the boughs of the tree, roosting on its thickest but lowest branch that's still easily thirty feet from the ground.

When the Maiden susses out the energy of the river to the southeast she lets the magic follow it; Maab had shown her a map of where the Lion's Tomb was supposed to be located at the tributary's heart. Best place as any to feel for the hybrid's presence. A third of the way along its length she starts to feel flickers of life, and just after comes the distinct, prickling sensation of Grimm.

Her shivering cringe draws Jaune's attention. "You all right? Feel something?"

She nods, shaking off the last of the disgust. "But it's not her, not yet." With a mental push she casts her magic wider, covering miles more that much quicker. When she finally zeroes in on it the interference of their energies colliding feels like something hooking her guts and trying to pull them through her navel. For a split second everyone looks at her, alarmed as she fights through the urge to puke, but she nods her head with a gesturing hand to assure them she's still all right. Finally she pants "She's coming. And she's not alone."

"How long?" Billy asks.

"...Maybe a few minutes."

Tag nods and then turns her head, catching Maab's gaze from her perch in the window and waving one hand.

Maab jumps down from her perch and quickly crosses the floor to the mirror, all eyes on her as she comes to stand beside it. "Ready, ladies?"

Not a word, but the answer is obvious enough. Maab uses a little burst of aura to lift herself off the ground, suspended in midair as she extends her finger to touch the top of the mirror's reflective surface. Carefully, steadily she traces the rim, leaving behind a glowing trail of deep emerald light. The glow steadily intensifies until she completes the circle, dropping back to the floor and taking a step back as the magic in the relic shudders to life -something everyone in the room can feel. The entire mirror glows for all of a second, then the light pulls back, collapsing into a pinprick as the mirror itself appears to sink inward. Further and further back until it breaks open into a gaping blackness. There's a current of chilled but stale air pulling goosebumps over everyone, the dull whistle of its movement enough to reassure them that this is real and it's happening.

"Glynda," she waits until she's certain of her daughter's attention, "do what you must. No matter what that means."

"I know. I will."

The older Witch nods once, resigned. Then she exhales. "There's no telling where you'll come out on the other end, so you best be ready for anything." Another breath, though this one doesn't sound as hopeless as the first when she sees the Maidens and their Guardians joining hands and holding tight to each other. "Good luck."

Glynda doesn't make time to linger, and Team RWBY is quick to follow her, swallowed up by the absolute darkness within the mirror. The world they leave behind lingers and gradually shrinks in their wake, flickering like a firefly until it blinks out completely. Now it's just them and the dark and its haunting stillness. There is no sound, they can't even hear themselves breathe, and the gusts of wind that had been were now extinguished like the light. They just keep pushing forward, always forward, with no heading, only a blind hope and a silent prayer for the other side. And as they pass through the veil between, time stretches and thins, all but stopping, and there's a cold shudder of stagnant, dead energy -too much like the sensation of someone having walked over the mass grave they could all be headed into.

The other side appears an impossible distance away, a dwarf star of dim purple light. Hands grip tighter and feet move faster, but there's no real way of knowing if the space between is closing at all, much less if it's at a quicker pace than before. But, after a breath hitching moment, it appears to draw closer. When they finally reach it Glynda gestures with her hand for the younger women to hang back, she wants to examine this herself first. At a glance its a pane of glass as tall as she is, or so it appears, and she chances to touch it. It's flat against the darkness, smooth and solid under her fingers and opaque. She pushes against it, finds it unmoving. Pushes a little harder and it won't budge an inch. She's certain now, it would take a little more magic to pass through completely, and that would likely alert anyone or anything on the other side to their presence. "Brace yourselves," she breathes, not realizing that her voice doesn't carry at all in this space, she's only hearing it in her head.

With her hand pressed against it, fingers splayed apart, she summons up the power that's deeper than her Semblance and gathers it in her palm. There's a faint jade glow that steadily amplifies, spreading along each digit until it bleeds into the glass. Almost immediately she can feel the barrier soften beneath her hand, the slightest give allowing it to flex inward. With her other hand she motions the girls forward, hurrying them through to the other side before following suit.

The almost suffocating emptiness closes into a much more concise, measurable space where everything is a faintly crimson and amethyst hue, from the sky that they can see through the jagged openings in the chamber walls, to the solid stone beneath their feet. The air is cold and abrasive and moves only slightly with an unsettling breeze. Steadily the five of them take tentative steps, gently spreading out as they take it all in. And while they don't sense immediate danger, not a one of them is at ease.

Looking around they see the wall of purple volcanic glass, likely what they had just stepped through from the veil, a collection of dark and gaping recesses in the wall that are probably the mouths of tunnels, and a pile of stones that appeared to have maybe once been a seat had it not been for the incredible split down the middle. Above them the room rises and disappears into a yawning darkness. Ruby notices a few feathers on the floor, enormous and black, but not so big that the little winds didn't push them about. For a time she can't focus on anything else but that, bumping one that's close to her with the tip of her boot, then she realizes her hands are empty and quickly remedies that. Her teammates do the same.

"We'll start searching the tunnels." Glynda's tone is firm, hushed. "No one goes anywhere alone."

"Can't you sense her presence? I mean, she's your sister," Yang swivels her head around, feeling the need to look behind her, suspicious.

"I'm trying, but there's...interference." She can't find Salem for lack of trying, but she's all but blind. It's like snow and white noise on a television in her head, her aura picking up nothing but blurs and frayed edges that she can't explain.

She can't find Salem because she's moving, but not the way humans or even Witches move. Not on foot or by mirror or slight of hand, but as the Grimm move. She moves as the Progenitors moved before they took shape from the primordial ooze of their creator, as an amorphous mass that eases through the narrowest spaces without hindrance up through the fortress from the hollow she was hiding in. The darkness in Salem was well aware of how it was nearly separated from its host, it's more than wary now, and it has every intention of erasing the threat that has dared to enter its stronghold. And as it rises higher through the bones of the structure to its destination, where its prey waits, it reaches out to its other kin that call the fortress home.

Glynda's only aware of her presence in the milliseconds before the white-skinned Witch makes the first move. Within a blink Salem has materialized seemingly out of nowhere before them, molten crimson eyes alight with fire and hate and flaring hotly at her older sister. Glynda has a plan, she swears mentally that she has a plan and that it will work but it doesn't matter. She can't even fully tense her muscles in reaction before the air in the chamber stirs wildly, cold and abrasive and with a flurry of feathers as something swoops down from the gaping black above them.

 

 

Author's Note: Writing is hard. That's really the gist of this one. The set up felt nearly impossible, and none of it feels right. But still, it is what it is. Next chapter, well, you can imagine, so I'll let you. Hope you enjoy.

 


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

_(This chapter regularly switches between Team RWBY and Team JNPR, and the events are meant to be read as happening simultaneously.)_

 

It had been torn from its sleep before it was ready, but now that it had scrambled from its den and started through the jungle towards the source of that awful _life_ , it doesn't care. It has everything it needs and it will triumph this time.

Once it reaches the surface it calls out to the lesser Grimm, drawing them in like it draws in breath, quickly and easily. It knows most of them are small, much smaller than most, but they answer the call en mass, ready to overwhelm by sheer numbers alone. The jungle canopy above shudders as avian Grimm take flight and follow, and then something massive stirs ahead, coming out of its den to join the hunting party. Once Manticore is aware of what it's roused, a spark of satisfaction flickers through its mind. It's happy, happy because it has a feeling of what's coming and it knows what to do now. It's stronger, in better control, and it knows what the young hunters are afraid of. It knows because the host knows.

It stumbles, almost eating dirt as a tugging thought jerks like barbwire in its brain. She doesn't want it to kill them -an expected notion, to be sure. But it was going to anyway, and it would do it as slowly as possible for the sole purpose of burning it onto the host's already fractured consciousness. It would prove, dead to rights, that _it_ is the only thing she has left, the only thing she deserves, and that it was best to just give up. _**No one will be left to fight for you. No one to even remember your name meant anything.**_

_Numb-nuts._

_**Defiant bitch.** _

Everything will be better once they're all dead, once this weary girl's heart is broken one last time. It would either have this body for itself, no longer sharing it, or it would be free of it altogether. It would see to that.

 

_(--)_

Glynda had a plan. That plan went to shit.

She had been thinking about this moment for days, maybe weeks, plotting to the _nth_ degree how she meant for this to pan out -in spite of all the bickering about it with her mother. Yet all that went down the tubes in about two seconds, starting the moment her eyes met Salem's. She barely has the time to take a breath before everything shatters, the shards caught up in a foul wind of exploding sound and razor sharp feathers as she's thrown, feeling like something slammed into her from behind. There's momentum behind her when she hits the floor, the stone so coarse it feels like skidding across steel wool, her palms and elbows raked raw. The air around her is still whipping, howling, and it's so hard to focus through the haze of confusion, but then she catches sight of her sister again and it all comes snapping back together. As quickly as she's able, Glynda twists to her feet and sprints across the floor towards Salem, her own aura flexing powerfully as she feels the dark energies in the room pitch.

Without a thought she swings, her riding crop whistling before it connects, creating a shower of bright violet and crimson sparks as it glances off of Salem's raised hand. She swings again, and again, each attempt from a different angle as she presses forward, and each time she's pushed aside. All the while Salem maintains an unyielding and scorching gaze on her, crimson and pitch seething as her expression seems effortlessly set in quiet fury. Another strike is disregarded, and in the same instant Salem draws her other hand out of the blackness of her robes too quickly. There's a shattering _CRACK_ , sending Glynda reeling backwards with a burning spark of pain shooting through her. Steadying her footing she blinks through it, finding that her vision doesn't clear. There's a jolt of panic -her glasses are broken and blood is rolling hotly down her face. Still she can just make out Salem standing only a few feet from her, haughtily upright with a weapon at the ready at her shoulder.

"Did you forget, Glynda?" she inches her wrist, the open fan with bladed ribs drifting forward slightly, a drop of blood smearing the steel talons. "Just like you forgot about me?"

"I never forgot you," her Semblance flexes again, her glasses snapping back together where they lay on the ground and coming back to her. "Your memory has haunted me every day."

Those crimson eyes narrow. " _Good_."

Now Salem advances, constantly moving, her body twisting deceptively. She lashes out in quick bursts, the fan opening and closing even though Glynda is far out of arm's reach. Yet that doesn't appear to matter, Glynda defends herself all the same with more sparks jumping through the air seemingly from nowhere that coincide with every vicious snap. If Glynda isn't careful, her sister's magic would bite straight through her aura and rip her to shreds.

"I thought you were smarter than this, Glynda," there's more, but she bites it off as Glynda jumps in close. Salem collapses the fan, the blades on the ends of the steel spines sliding together as one, then dropping into place on a concealed hinge to form a more compact hand scythe. The two tangle together, Salem stopping Glynda's elbow from smashing her in the jaw and having her own counterattack stopped at the same time. All but a stalemate. "You bring Maidens right to my door! You've gotten _stupid_ in your old age!"

Glynda tries to push back, finding immoveable resistance. She can't even wrench herself free. "We're going to stop you."

"No you won't! I'm going to kill you, and do you have _any_ idea what will happen when the Maidens die _here_!?" Salem twists at the waist, forcing Glynda to do the same, and then sweeps her foot to rip Glynda's stable base out from under her. Glynda rolls just as Salem's blade comes down, springing to her feet when the fan falls open again and slices a deep gash in the floor. A glance lets the Witch spy traces of her hair lying on the ground near the fringe of the small fissure.

" _The magic will be gone forever_ ! You've all but brought me the four kingdoms on a plate, _sister dear_!" Salem surges forward, closing the gap between them in an instant, pulling a second fan from her robes.

 

_(--)_

They feel the Grimm long before they see them, and the sensation of their presence is a sharp, blistering and massive wave that puts every last one of them on edge. Maab feels it too, jumping back into the window and looking straight up into an empty sky. Her ears move this way and that in quick, snapping motions, listening for anything that shouldn't be there. While she doesn't pick anything up immediately, she still doesn't like the creeping feeling, and uses a burst of aura to get to the roof. She calls down to Rusty, rushing him with a list of names. It takes a moment to respond, but eventually he hands the weapons she requested up through the window, starting with a quartet of bows -only one of which she means to keep for herself- accompanied by just as many quivers that rattle with countless arrows as she hauls them up. Quickly she arranges the other three at the corners of the roof, and as she sets them in place she snaps her thumb. A bright ember of neon blue light jumps from the moment of friction and touches down on the bow at her feet, spreading across the bulk of the weapon before fading out. She'll do this twice more before going back to the edge of the roof.

"Here's Thorn," Rusty calls up, tossing her what looks to be a sword carved of solid wood -most common across east Mistral. "Anything else?"

"Just be sure nothing gets in the house, and keep an eye on the kids lest I divorce you again."

Rusty just laughs and ducks out of sight.

Maab tucks the wooden sword into her belt and scurries back to the fourth quiver, strapping it across her chest before taking out four arrows. Setting one to the string she grips the rest in her hand that also holds the bow, quick and easy access should matters come to that. Now she's watching the sky again, feeling that big, awful something from before to be that much closer. Her ears still move in an attempt to catch something, anything, and then they jerk to one side as Matt shouts from his roost in the tree.

"We've got Grimm to the southeast,"

"Nevermore?"

"Too fast for that,"

"Shit." she bites her bottom lip briefly, having yet another feeling that she simply doesn't like. "How many?"

"At least three."

If it's what she thinks it is, that type of Grimm doesn't travel in groups. Something has to be rallying them together, and is likely doing so along with a whole host of Grimm in the jungle beneath that they can't even begin to imagine the numbers of. Regardless, how they mitigate the impact of this initial wave could be what stands between them and utter failure. Maab knows her way around a battlefield and has seen her fair share of conflicts be decided within seconds -today stands to be put on that list.

" _Shit_." she repeats, her tone sharper as she snaps her fingers again. The bows and arrows on the ground shudder...once, twice as they start to glow. The light in them intensifies, forms a sphere that swells and becomes almost opaque as the weapons begin lifting into the air. The orb of light then begins to stretch, taking on a different shape until it more closely resembles the silhouette of an average sized person. It manifests hands to take hold of the bow and notch an arrow, the other two mimicking the action as if reflected. Now three phantom archers occupy the roof along with the Witch. "How far out, Matt?"

"About two leagues,"

Roughly half a mile, damn they're moving fast. "Tell me when they're in range," They could be anything if not Nevermore -Daredevils, Harpies, and if it's that bastard Rook and his offspring she swears she will outright _shit_.

Maab turns to the southeast, following Maat's guidance from his roost and adjusting accordingly, her foxfire constructs doing the same and drawing their bows as she does. She's counting down the seconds in her head, trying to her best to visualize a target she can't see and wait for the signal to fire.

Then she feels a spike of abrasive energy race up her spine, her grip almost slipping at the shock. The eastern barrier of the village begins to rustle wildly in the seconds before a horde of Grimm bursts out of the treeline; some of the larger ones -still unseen- are caught up in the traps Rusty had set -several flung this way and that with all the grace of rag dolls. Tree trunks blast apart as the bigger Grimm flood in behind the mass of smaller, impish ones, giants with a gaping, toothy maw where their stomachs should be and a single bulging eye perched between hulking shoulders. For a moment all Maab can do is watch, the Witch's heart sinking into her feet like a lead weight.

The Grimm had concocted a trap of their own and set it in motion flawlessly. She had been so focused on the threat they could see that she didn't bother to consider anything else. Nature's grace, how foolish.

Once the fear passes she commands her constructs to reset their aim and fire at will. Whatever is intending to assault them from the air would just have to wait its turn.

 

_(--)_

Ruby feels energy popping against her aura like rubber bullets as she lays face down on the floor, the rough stone scraping against her cheek as she struggles to right herself. Something hit her, hit her _hard_ in the split second following her reflexive attempt to get Glynda out of the way. Her ribs are burning, the middle of her spine aches, and she bites against the insistent pains as she gets to her knees. Crescent Rose is still in her hand, thankfully, her mind just able to discern its weight among the off key ringing in her ears. A good shake of her head clears away the daze, and she takes all of a second to absorb what's going on around her: there's a gaping hole in the floor, chunks of stone still breaking away from the brink to tumble down into impossible darkness. Above, the ceiling has opened, the cold purple sky and shattered moon now peaking through the chasm at the peak of the fortress' apex. There's no sign of her teammates and all she's receiving from her mental link with Weiss is static that sets her heartbeat skipping. Her first instinct -the wolf in her bristling- is to find her Maiden, make sure she's safe, but the idea is broken up by an almost psychic notion to _move_. She twists away in a flurry of flower petals from a razor sharp blade of light and energy that crashes into the wall right behind where she had been, slicing completely through it to the corridor on the other side.

Now all her thoughts focus on the wicked Witch in the room, uneasy but determined silver eyes meeting pits of fiery hate. When Crescent Rose unfurls in Ruby's hands, Salem only scowls, her eyes narrowing viciously.

But then the dark Witch tears away to face her sister, Glynda having picked up a massive shard of stone debris from the floor. She hurls it at Salem, the stone briefly glowing bright purple as it flies through the air. Both of Salem's fans crack open, splitting the improvised ballistic cleanly in half, but in the same instant Glynda flicks her wrist and brings the two halves together with Salem stuck in the middle. But there's still a seam, the tiniest of spaces between the stones that Salem impossibly inhabits for but a second before she blasts free in a wave of dark energy.

Now Ruby moves in, executing a Semblance fueled lunge with the blade of her scythe bringing up the rear. She gets in close, barely a breath between them, and unleashes a volley of smooth, precise swings. There's no contact, but every time she comes back around for the next strike she hears a punctuated snap and feels an accompanying pain with a shudder of aura. Salem pushes her back with a burst of aura from her pale, clawed hand, the tread of Ruby's boots scraping as she slides across the floor. This is her chance to see the bright red ribbons of blood that weren't there before, the paper thin wounds strapped across one thigh and two intersecting at her side.

"Ozpin's favorite," Salem exhales, more like hisses as she stares daggers at the girl, "I'm going to _enjoy_ killing _you_ , but not until I've given back. _Every_ . _Ounce_ . Of _pain_ you've ever caused me!" And as far as the Witch, as well as the darkness inside her is concerned, those ounces amount to countless tons. Salem lunges for the young huntress, one of the fans closing. Ruby swings, Crescent Rose hooked by Salem's own smaller scythe and pushed away as the Witch quickly closes the other fan and snaps it open again. A crimson flash and Ruby feels the pain again, a burning blossoming perilously close to her throat. Ruby jumps back, tucking Crescent Rose under her arm as she pulls the bolt lever, chambering and firing several rounds in quick succession only to watch Salem brush them aside, ricochets cracking through the air with showers of sparks.

Salem moves too fast, like a spirit across the floor until she's too close for Ruby to swing her scythe with any power. She can't swing it at all, she can barely find it in her to move. The Witch is all around her, massive with teeming shadows and it's paralyzing -all Ruby can think to do is breathe. She feels so small, so afraid, like a child who just got her first look at the monster under the bed. Some region of her brain that's still functioning is screaming, but on the outside her chest heaves and she just stares back at Salem's eyes. Gods, those eyes.

"Whoever made you believe you could stop me," it's just above a whisper, Salem's so close, "was _sadly_ mistaken. Now you're going to die." and she nods, bringing the edge of the hand scythe to Ruby's throat just slow enough as not to trigger her aura's protection. "And then I'm going to kill Glynda...and all your friends...and _then_ , once I get out of this _hell hole_ -this _body_ , I'm going to kill _everyone_ . _Else_ . But you, oh _you_ ," she laughs, three slow, deliberate puffs of air cut with a fanged grin. " _You_ and those damned silver eyes of yours are _first_."

Ruby swallows hard, the noise it makes in her head almost deafening. She feels the blade flinch a little deeper into her skin, a biting burn.

Before Salem can press any further, she feels the white hot grip of something shudder through her entire body from her skin to her bones and hold her still. Her ears are full and throbbing with the sound of thunder. Her darkness is being pushed down, subjugated by bars of jade and amethyst light coming from somewhere behind her. The sensation of the magic ripping through her screams her older sister's name.

"Miss Rose," Glynda calls from where she stands some feet away, both hands up and glowing with the same light that now fills the room. "You can move. Go, try to find Ozpin."

For a moment Ruby can't even make up a response, her eyes darting from one Witch to the other. She can't see it, but a bright seal has formed across Salem's back, something she might mistake for one of Weiss' glyphs were it not for Glynda's emblem situated in the center of a ring.

" _Ruby_!"

She shakes her head, jarred. "Y-you said we should stay together,"

"What I said could get us killed, now _go_!"

Carefully, oh so carefully, Ruby works her way out of Salem's reach, a little shocked she's able to pose Salem's hands away from her with no resistance from the Witch even as she eyes her with a terrible, burning madness. Finally she ducks and runs, finally she can breathe again as she puts distance between her and Salem. She's halfway across the floor when she pauses, looking back briefly.

"My team,"

"They're on their own for now - _get moving_!" and she's thankful that Ruby at last complies, speeding off in a crimson blur and flurry of osiria petals. Now she can focus entirely on keeping the seal intact.

Salem is laughing again, strangely amused. "You can't hold me for long, Glynda, you're not strong enough."

"A lot has changed in almost twenty years. I could do this all day."

"Nice bluff." and just to prove a point Salem turns her head, a distinct look of _I told you so_ on her face. "But look at you, you're already sweating."

Glynda's scowl deepens. Seals were never her strong suit, and she could already feel her sister's magic pushing against it. Still, she had to do something, if for no other reason than to buy herself a few precious seconds. And a few seconds is really all she would get as her emblem flickers, dims, and then flashes bright red before shattering into nothing.

Salem goes on the offensive in a split second.

 

_(--)_

Daredevils are falcon-like Grimm that are slightly smaller than Nevermore, but fly easily ten times as fast. Their primary hunting methods are dive bombing targets from impossible heights, or flying perilously low to the ground to snatch up prey. With sturdy bone plates situated around their heads and necks, they're all but impervious to harm during an approach. A trio of them passed over the village clearing, close enough to shave off the tops of trees to send them crashing to the ground as enormous shrapnel, and for a thunderclap of sound to follow quickly after them that jolted anyone with better than average hearing. Maab and her archers try for them but miss, giving the too swift Grimm an opportunity to make another run. In the span of only a few fleeting seconds, the Daredevils gain considerable altitude and make a dive on the village. But Matt has been keeping an eye on them from his perch, he knows for sure what they are and knows what to do.

While keeping the smaller gremlin sort of Grimm off the trunk of the tree, he keeps tabs on the Daredevils, judging their distance and speed as best he can knowing if he moves too soon they could easily pull out and away. Matt follows his gut, his Semblance surging like an invisible bubble -"Head's up!" he shouts down-and it forms a gravity well in line with the Daredevil's flightpath, snagging all three of them and hurling them to the ground too fast for them to react. Anything that isn't bolted down jumps several feet with the ensuing impact. And while only one of the Grimm are killed, it gives Maab ample opportunity to unload a host of arrows into the other two. Billy sees fit to relieve one of the burden of its head, while Tag uses her magic to snare the other with a cluster of vines that drag it into the trees, disappearing with one last shriek.

Manticore is watching, stalking along the treeline and mindful of the few remaining traps. Most if not all of its focus is on the Spring Maiden and that stupid human boy - _I'm going to swallow - **please** \- that little bastard - **don't** \- whole_\- feeling their joint aura's rubbing it the wrong way in every fashion. It's also waiting for the right time, waiting for all these stupid hunters to wear themselves out. It hadn't expected them to do away with the Daredevils so quickly, but it couldn't find the concern to consider itself disadvantaged. The other Grimm were still serving their purpose as canon fodder and it could always call for more if needed. Even then, it still has an ace up its sleeve -not that it knows anything about aces or sleeves.

The hybrid creeps further along the village border, more than pleased when it finds itself drawn away from the majority of the hunters. Peering between the thick blades of jungle grass it spies bright red hair and a pink skirt tossed about in the throws of swinging an incredible hammer. It's first instinct is to grab the weapon with the host's semblance, that is until it clenches its jaw at the realization that such action wouldn't serve any purpose. It hadn't expected the hunters to be this prepared, but it didn't matter in the long run -if everything goes according plan, that poor girl's going to be too terrified to do anything except die. The Progenitor's influence starts to spread outward, only for the distinct screech of nails on a chalkboard - _what's a chalkboard!?-_ to go ripping through its skull.

_**STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT** _

And the pain just keeps pushing and pushing, the hybrid dropping almost flat to the ground with its forehead in the dirt. It's shocked. Actually shocked.

_**GET OUT OF MY BODY** _

It pushes through it, swamped by the awful echoes of a gut deep and furious scream that only it could hear, teeth creaking under the clenching pressure in its jaws as it rises to its hands and feet again. Its will is still working, still drawing in the Grimm hiding in the underbrush.

_**SEND IT BACK** _

It groans, flopping onto its side as it covers its head with its arms, knees tucked tight to its chest. Another scream shatters through its skull and it hurts _so_ much. Why?! Why is this girl suddenly fighting so hard?! How did this strength just pop out of nowhere?! It's because the host knows, it realized; the host knows what it means to do and can't seem to the stand the thought of just letting it go about its business.

 _You're not in control anymore, I AM_ . Manticore forces itself to stand upright, though its posture is crumpled, still painful. _This is MY body now, and I will do as I please._ It's stepping without looking where it's going, lilting away from the treeline. _And I'm going to see to it that they all die broken and afraid...just like Y-_

Its foot catches on something hidden within a system of exposed roots, a pronounced _SNAP_ catching its attention in the too brief second before something strikes it soundly across the chest. The wind flies out of its lungs as it's lifted off the ground and thrown by the intact trap it hadn't seen. Before it can process what's happening it bursts out into the open, limbs flailing madly as fear wracks its mind.

But the fright is temporary. Manticore forces its wits back into place and twists in the air, turning just in time to latch onto the massive tree in the middle of the village instead of crashing into it. And when it looks back, partly disbelieving that it had just flown through the air, it grins as the largest Taijitu even its host has ever seen comes lunging out of the jungle.

Nora screams.

 

_(--)_

The first thing that comes back to her is the distinct pounding of every ounce of blood in her body having settled in her head, and then there's the very real sensation of her forehead trying to split itself open. Somewhere within the dull, hot roaring in her ears she can hear something sounding like her name. Her dull senses grab for it, almost clawing until it latches on and drags her consciousness back up.

" _Weiss_!"

She jolts, shaking her head as her name echoes like too loud church bells. "What...am...am I upside down?!"

"Hey, princess, welcome back, enjoy your nap?" It's Yang -of course it is, only she says things like that- and her tone is rough, even forced. Weiss can't see her hand in front of her face, much less her teammate, but it's obvious the brawler is making a considerable effort to speak.

"What happened?"

"Still sorting that out myself, but if you could do me a solid and get yourself right side up again? I'd appreciate that," because she's had her prosthetic buried wrist-deep into solid stone to keep them from falling any father for several minutes and it's _really_ starting to hurt. "Think I might've blown a rib or two on the way down."

Weiss swallows, knowing that could mean a number of things -bruised, broken, or dislocated. In any case she _does_ need to right herself and quickly. Blindly she pats herself down, praying to find Myrtenaster and unknowingly holding her breath until she does. With careful quickness she draws the blade and readies herself to form a glyph, her brain only managing through the first few seconds of calling on her Semblance before she suddenly stops.

Below her is a yawning, complete darkness, but at its center, impossibly, are two pinpoints of intense orange light. All she can do is stare, feeling her heart steadily clench tighter and her already unsteady breaths hitching.

"Hey, what's the hold up?" Yang pants. "You're the smallest of us, but even you get heavy after a while."

"Yang," Weiss swallows, "there's something down there."

"Shit." The brawler takes a breath, pulling up on one arm to adjust her grip just a little. She can't feel the fingertips wrapped around Weiss' ankle anymore, no telling how much longer she could maintain her grip. "Let's just get out of here before it notices us, I think I can see the sky from here so we're not too far gone."

"...It's big."

"I don't care what it is, so long as it isn't that giant fucking spider." she feels Weiss' frigid aura bristle, feels the heiress tense in her grip. "...Weiss,"

"..."

"Don't tell me,"

"...Okay...I won't." because now she's gazing down into a total of six -what she now assumes to be- eyes, and she can't imagine saying something like that out loud.

" _Shit_ ," Yang repeats in a grinding groan, a sound that only gets louder when the chasm rumbles and echoes with the motion of whatever is coming up from below. "Just pop some of that Maiden mojo and get us out the hell out of here!"

Within the next second the darkness is ripped apart by the cold clarity of a glowing glyph, the snowflake sigil spinning wildly when the young huntresses touch down. Then it launches them straight up into the air towards the surface.

The passage continues to shake as the massive Grimm moves its incredible body at top speed to leave its den in pursuit of its prey.

\--

Blake remembers it all in one jolting flash as her consciousness springs back, the rampant chaos in her mind coupled in equal measure with the absolute mess she's suddenly found herself in. The wind is howling and she can feel the pull of gravity on her head and legs as they hang, pulled painfully back to earth. She lifts her head, ears back and teeth bared with the effort. She quickly comprehends the heavy bone plates covering the talons that hold her in a vice like grip and then starts trying to wrench herself free, shoulders jerking. All she can hear is the wind though she knows there is a pair of monstrous wings flapping, pulling her ever higher with every downward sweep. Chancing a look up confirms it, makes her harried brain accept it, the shattered moon catching the outline of rippling pitch pin feathers.

None of them had heard it coming because it hadn't made a sound. Owls are silent hunters, and the same is true for their incredible Grimm counterpart. The last thing Blake remembered was a hail of stone debris, the round moon of a white mask, and two burning eyes as the Progenitor came crashing down on top of her. Whisper had felt the oppressive, swelling warmth of the Summer Maiden's magic, a sensation it recognized from the time it had been banished, and went mad with the desire to destroy it.

Blake wriggles one arm loose and gives her all in trying to pull the other free, but no dice. And, unfortunately, Gambol Shroud is trapped with it. She forces her near panic to still as she tries to think, tries not to focus on how the ground draws steadily further away. With every breath she consciously makes certain she fills her lungs to capacity against the clutching talons before releasing it in a controlled exhale. Steady breathing, steady mind.

_Yang...Yang, please answer me._

The seconds she has to wait feel like a short, heart wrenching eternity.

 _**Yang** _ -

_I'm here, Blake, don't worry. I can hear you, just we've got **big** problems. Are you all right?_

_For the moment._

_Where are you?_

Blake twists her neck as far as she can to look down, making out the cluster of stone that makes up the fortress below. _At least a few hundred feet above you._

_You **what**!?_

She's a breath away from an explanation when she feels the world spinning, her body jerking around until gravity is no longer pulling on her. Now it's the wind, and it's sweeping wildly upward as Whisper drops into a spiraling dive. The panic crashes through her like a brick through a pane of glass, blood rushing into her head as she's forced to shut her eyes. Her thoughts fracture into the most basic slivers and shatter along her link with Yang.

_Oh god oh god oh god I can't I can't oh god-_

_Weiss is on her way, hold on!_

_**That's not up to me!**_

_Try to stay calm, kitten, we won't let anything happen to you...Blake... **Blake**_ -

Whisper had let go, and Blake's mind went blank.

 

 

Author's Note:  I'm an awful person. That is all.

 


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

The white end of the giant Taijitu rips its way through the little village as if in a frenzy; it can sense the overwhelming draw of someone's fear and is desperate to seek it out. It only takes a moment for the serpent to zero in on Nora, the source of that delicious terror. Many of the other lesser Grimm are caught up in its rippling body, tossed this way and that, some knocked up over the trees and out of sight as it whips about its incredible frame in hot pursuit.

Nora doesn't have to look back to know what's there, what she swears is only inches away from the heels of her shoes. It's all she can think about, every other thought ruptured by phobia. All she can manage to do about it is run for all she's got, unable to shake the feeling that the giant snake is all but on top of her -any second now it's just going to swallow her up and that'll be the end of it. Or worse.

Her instincts tell her it's coming, that its jaws are opening up and it's about to lunge for her. Without hesitation she twists into a blind upward swing, her entire body turning as the head of the hammer soars through empty air. Had she hesitated only a second more, she might have hit it, but her attempt only allows her an up close and personal look at the inside of the Taijitu's fanged mouth. She can't control her reactionary shriek or how her hands all but throw her weapon away in order to catch the Grimm's closing jaws. It pushes and pushes against her, her boots dragging the dirt, its slimy black tongue roiling in protest. Nora can't even scream now though she wants to, she's too unconsciously focused on just breathing and maintaining her grip.

Ren and Maab react immediately. The Witch leaps from the roof, leaving her foxfire soldiers to continue guarding the house while she sprints across the stretch between her and the Taijitu. She'll use the last of her arrows to fell the Grimm that try to cut her off, allowing her to draw Thorn from her belt as she slides between an ogreish Grimm's knees and strikes it down in the same movement. Others will meet similar fates as she goes.

At the same time Ren breaks free of a horde impish Grimm with a bright pink burst of his aura. Panic paints his face since he heard Nora scream.

"I'll occupy its other head, you help your partner!" Maab shouts.

He only nods, and the two split up.

\--

Manticore still hangs from the side of the tree and Matt can see it, and a part of him hopes it hasn't realized he's there -if it had it likely would have moved on from its perch by now. He takes a chance, draping a portion of his weapon's tether around a branch and jumping, the thick strap of leather catching his weight and letting him swing hard and fast towards the hybrid. It catches sight of him at the last second.

"Remember me?" he shouts just before impact, obviously amused.

A big, square foot crashes into Manticore's ribcage and its claws rip free of the bark, chunks of wood scattering. The hybrid rolls and skids to a stop in the dirt while Matt uses his Semblance to lessen the gravity on himself and soften his landing -at his age he has to mind his knees. Now on all fours the hybrid glares at him, starting to stalk forward with its spiked tail raised in warning, and it remembers him _very_ well, remembers him trying to crush it to death with his Semblance. It's ready to repay the kindness. Matt is advancing at equal pace, rhythmically swinging his hook in his lead hand.

"Come on, ya twisted up thing," he goads, still smirking, "I won't kill ya, but I _really_ want ya t'give me a reason to knock a couple of your teeth out,"

Manticore snarls, sparks flickering in the back of its throat before it lunges at him.

From the far side of the tree, closer to Tag, Billy keeps a close watch on Manticore as best they can. They know it's coming, that moment they've been waiting for. The perfect opportunity to kill the hybrid.

 

_(--)_

She can't even scream, she can barely think straight enough to breathe. Thankfully Blake's hands are able to move without the bureaucracy of thought, and they do so with uncanny quickness to separate the parts of Gambol shroud so she can launch the tethered pistol upward towards the Grimm that now seems to hover above her. She tracks the weapon with her eyes, bottom lip between her teeth as she prays and prays and prays...

It _misses_.

Blake's gut drops as she sees the sable silk tether tense for a split second, snapping taught before going lax again as the bladed pistol starts to fall back towards her. Once her racing mind accepts what's happening she spreads out her limbs, creating as much wind resistance against her body as possible to slow her descent. Of course, there's no saving her should she hit the ground, but this should buy her a few extra seconds before that happens.

Then she feels a jarring burst of magic coupled with an icy gust of wind from below. It pushes against her back, constant, and Blake can feel that her descent is slowing along with the ebbing of her paralyzing panic. Above her Whisper shrieks, sounding infuriated, and from beneath she can hear someone calling her name.

"Brace yourself," the Winter Maiden's shout comes a mere second before she snatches Blake by the wrist, pulling her along as she quickly ascends. The pair rise several feet before a glyph blossoms beneath them, suspending them in the air. "Are you all right?"

Ears back, eyes shut and panting, Blake nods. She lifts her heavy feeling head when she hears the Progenitor screech again, the vibrations sharp against her sensitive ears. "Scared me."

"It'll do a lot more if we don't stop it. Now let's ground this bird and get back to Yang."

Again Blake nods, hesitating only a moment so Weiss can start upward along a column of glyphs before bursting into a half a dozen clones and following suit.

\--

The spider Progenitor's body is too big to fit through the hole Whisper had made in the floor. There's just enough space for its head and legs but nothing else, the huge and spiked mound of bone on its abdomen simply too much to pull through. Still, it isn't powerless. Though Yang is keen to stay as far away from its legs and beckoning, fanged chelicerae, she finds out pretty damn quick that it has other ways of going on the offensive.

When it realizes the huntress is too quick, it starts making this awful heaving sound. Jet black and clotted slime starts bubbling up along the seam where its body and the stone floor meet. As it pools on the floor it starts to writhe with a life of its own, amorphous limbs clawing and pulling at the stone until it starts to separate into a dozen malformed blobs. Then those same blobs start taking some sort of shape, eventually thrashing into fully conceived lesser Grimm. What the massive arachnid doesn't know is that this is something the lone huntress can handle, much less that she's happy to oblige. In fact she had been itching for a proper fight since she stepped through the mirror.

As Yang works her way through the smaller Grimm, the sound of gunfire filling the chamber, she makes an honest effort to spot Glynda or Ruby or even Salem after a fashion. There's evidence of them having been here, she can see rose petals scattered across the floor as she and the Grimm duke it out, and the damage the two sister Witches must have caused, but they are nowhere to be seen otherwise. She makes a mental note to have closer look, that is, once she forces the tongue of a huge toad Grimm back into its mouth where it belongs. Might shove it through the back of its head for good measure.

When she puts that one down, another springs up out of the slime and whips its fleshy tongue out of its mouth, the sticky bulb at the end latching on to Yang's ankle and ripping her off her feet. The coarse stone floor wreaks havoc on her nerves as she's pulled along, growling through a tight jaw and toothy snarl, and her Semblance flares hot and bright as her irises flash a staggering red. When the toad reels her in it's repaid with a bullet to the face and a kick to the chin, its bloated, barrel shaped body blasted apart. Yang springs onto her feet, steam jetting between her teeth as she pants through the burning pain in her skin. Her knuckles knock together in front of her, the impact creating a wave of sparks. "Alright, fuckers, who's next?!"

Apparently Grimm don't understand the concept of waiting patiently in line for their ass-whooping, and instead crowd on her all at once. The golden huntress disappears beneath a teeming pile of pitch and bone plates, claws and teeth, resisting all the while and pushing them back one by one with ballistics and brute force. After several tense seconds there's a flash of fire that paints the dark chamber crimson and gold and the now charred bodies of smaller Grimm -it pushes the mass back only for them surge on her again. One of the bigger ones with more human-like hands makes the mistake of snatching a handful of her hair. Safe to say we all know what happened to it.

All this while the spider has been watching, waiting for its chance as most arachnids are prone to do. The huntress isn't close enough for it to just pluck off the ground, and it initially tries to free itself from the hole to no avail, so it concedes to reach out with one long foreleg towards the pile of lesser Grimm. With a punctuated stab of the limb it pierces the mound of bodies, scattering them; Yang is pinned beneath it, the tip of the spider's leg almost the size of her whole torso. She fights as it pulls her across the floor towards its, jaw tight against a drawn out scream as the stone rips through her clothes and gnaws across her skin. Her aura's pitching again, hotter and hotter, and she can almost feel that precarious line between control and helpless rage drawing closer.

Now the Progenitor looms over her, making the most unsettling noise from some unseen place, like the shriek of a million cicadas. When she's certain she can't lift its leg off her body, Yang starts unloading shells into the giant Grimm's face as it steadily leans down towards her. One round pops it in the eye, sending it reeling and screaming as blood chokes from the scorched wound. Yang powers through one last herculean effort to free herself, another rib surrendering with a telling _pop_ as she gains just a few precious inches -just enough space that lets her roll out from under the monster's weight. Her entire body is throbbing as she pushes to her feet.

_I'm sure you two are busy, but I could really use another set of hands down here._

It takes a moment, but a response comes. _**Please**_ _tell me you didn't just pun._

_I'm serious as a heart attack. I need some back up and I need it now or things are going to get ugly._

Yang doesn't know it, but Blake has been feeling the sharp feedback of her Guardian's pain as well as the swelling inferno that threatens to burst loose. _We're on our way, but watch your head because it's going to be a hell of a landing._

Before she can even think about what that might entail, what remains of the ceiling comes crashing down, caved by the weight of Whisper's terminal descent. The owl Progenitor has a glacier sized shard of solid ice seated fast through its chest, the exiting end smeared with black ichor. How Blake and Weiss managed to line it all up just right so that one Progenitor crashed into the other, there's no knowing, but that's how it went as Whisper fell on top of its kin with the ice somehow piercing the massive bone plate on the spider's back- and the two disappear down the bottomless well beneath the fortress. Blake and Weiss touch down and promptly go about wiping out the last of the lesser Grimm.

Once the room is clear, Blake and Weiss run to Yang who is picking herself off the floor. Blake gets there first, her brain working faster than her mouth when she processes all the scrapes and bruises and splashes of blood on her partner's body. She tries to help Yang stand only to have her hand slapped away.

"S-sorry, just," Yang swallows and straightens, wiping at the blood on her face with the back of her hand, "don't touch me right now."

"It's okay." Blake just nods. "You all right?"

"I'll make it."

Weiss is now at Blake's side. "What about Ruby and Glynda?"

"I don't know where they went. Can you not pick Ruby up on your brain radio?"

Weiss blinks, deciphering the phrase. "It's just static, I don't know why."

"Then we better start looking for her. Come on."

 

_(--)_

Nora never thought herself as one to hide from danger, but once she had gotten away from that awful snake it was the only thing she could think about. She cut and run, now pressed up against a post of one of the stilt houses tight enough to possibly become part of its molecular structure, her chest heaving too quickly and not quick enough at the same time as sweat rolls down her face. There's a tiny fear in the back of her mind that her heart might burst from pounding so hard and she's doing her absolute best to keep from crying.

_C'mon, magical girl, get it together. You can cry about it later when this is all over. Muscle up now, your team needs you. **Pyrrha** needs you._

She takes as deep a breath as she can, forcing her wits back together as she exhales hard. She's still shaking from head to toe, but she tries to get it under control as she peels herself away from the post and attempts walking out from behind it. Nora can see the Taijitu's belly, sees that it's still moving madly about though the black head of the Grimm looks to have been completely severed. As she creeps around the house and has a clear view of the village center, she can better take stock of what has happened since she ducked out of sight.

Out of reflex she looks for Ren, relieved to see him on his feet and Maab at his side. The two appear to have the Grimm well occupied in their attempts to get a clear shot at the soft spot behind its head. From there her eyes quickly settle on Jaune, drawn by the crack of a bullwhip; he doesn't look any worse for wear from here -save for what looks like a busted nose- and neither does Tag as they hold off another surge of lesser Grim from the jungle. Still, the number of Grimm seems to be shrinking.

A bright flash of fire grabs her gaze next, her head snapping in the opposite direction. It's the first time she's seen Manticore since Caissa, and even though she hadn't gotten a good look at it then, it didn't matter now as a shot of fresh horror races through her. Matt is going toe-to-toe with it; his shell is scorched and smoking, one of his arms looks to be limp at his side, an acorn sized puncture wound having opened up in the meat of his bicep. His other arm is thick with the coils of his hook's tether and his fist grips the bone weapon tightly by the base to use as an impromptu bludgeon. He's beginning to waver, and it looks like the hybrid was only beginning to press its assault. The Grimm springs off his broad chest and puts him on his back, and then springs into the air as if to pounce on him.

Nora blinks at the bright flash of silver light, that moment of darkness long enough for almost everything she had been looking at to change. Matt is on the fringe of her peripherals now and Billy has taken his place, their Semblance having allowed the switch. The Guardian catches Manticore by the waist and tosses it to the ground, quickly following up with both axes swinging. Nora feels her gut drop as she expects at least one of the weapons to land a hit, but Manticore rolls away before finally settling on all fours and scrambling too far away, almost cornered against the huge tree. The feeling doubles back and intensifies when she watches Billy take a large, staggering step and hurl one of their axes, the air whistling. A scream perches in her throat at the loud  _THOCK_ of stone meeting wood.

_Oh god oh god, they killed her. They **killed Pyrrha**_ .

Nora moves without thinking, fury and pain and confusion swelling like a sore in her heart as she tears herself out of hiding and goes sprinting forward. A few lesser Grimm try to get in her path but are unceremoniously mowed down by the sheer force of her strides, and she can feel her new found magic beginning to spark and crackle under her skin. Her irises have started to flicker with light as tears gather and roll down her flushed cheeks. She'll snatch up Ulthane without pause as she goes, changing her course only a little -just enough so she can see Billy at just the right angle before throwing the hammer end over end. The Guardian doesn't see it coming, only sees a mass of black before the world disappears behind a sudden, heavy pressure in their chest. Tag felt it, like a jolt of cold static at the back of their mind coupled with a thick pinch in her sternum, but she can't react to it unless she wants the Grimm bearing down on her to tear her head off.

Nora is still running, part of her wanting to cave Billy's face in at the bidding of some knee-jerk anger, and another part of her has to see. There  _has to be a body this time_ ...

But she isn't ready, she simply isn't ready. Nora isn't ready for not a trace of the hyrbid's body save for the mess of matted red hair caught between the blade of Billy's ax and the tree. She isn't ready to process all the possible meanings of this, and she most certainly isn't ready for Manticore to come lunging from her blind spot to tear her to the ground, having crept around the far side of the tree to get behind her. A tight and terrified squeak escapes her throat, the hot wetness of blood splashes against her face and the scent of it fills her nostrils in a dizzying instant. She looks up into those vicious and toxic green eyes, and or a split second -though it feels like forever- Nora's brain just sputters and misfires in its attempts to process anything. For some reason the only thought that breaks through is to swallow her own tongue.

There isn't time for that, Manticore won't allow it. Somehow Nora's thoughts collide back into working order, forced like a stalling engine as she spies the golden glint of the hybrid's barbed tail above her. She reacts, instinctive, twisting hard until she feels one of her arms move into place before launching her fist straight up. There's a resounding  _TWHACK_ as her knuckles connect and Manticore's head snaps back painfully hard, the hybrid stumbling away and giving Nora room to stand up again. The young huntress still moves on reflex as she presses the attack on the hybrid, closing the distance between her and Manticore too quickly for the Grimm to retreat or react beyond putting up its hands.

Now Nora can see her - _really_ see her. Somewhere in that mess of fangs, gray skin, snarls and bloody slaver is Pyrrha. There's no mistake in Nora's mind in spite of the well woven and malicious disguise her once late teammate is being forced to wear. Fresh pain is lancing her right through the heart - _I don't want to do this_ \- and it's near crippling. Manticore all but crushes her hands with its own, claws digging between her knuckles and breaking the skin. And when the hybrid pushes against her with a throaty growl she reluctantly gives several inches. But Nora holds fast, shoving the pain down. Gods, what she would give to be able to just break down and cry.

Nora forces it all out of her mind because now isn't the time. She swallows hard and pushes back, gaining those lost inches and then some as her magic is surging again. Threads of light arc through the blueness of her eyes as she stares back at the hybrid. "You're not stronger than me, you know that." she grinds out. "You couldn't even beat me at arm wrestling, remember? You," she pushes again, taking two big steps, "you told me not to let you win, so I didn't."

Manticore winces, partly trying to pull away but in too deep to do so. Its brain is wrenching again, the host fighting its still unstable control. Memories that don't belong flash behind screwed shut eyes, each one white hot and painful. It resists when Nora takes another big step, the claws on its toes dragging furrows in the dirt in tandem with a drawn out groan. The hybrid's frame quakes with stress.

"Pyrrha," Nora blinks new tears from her eyes, her tightening throat threatening to choke the words out, "Pyrrha, please, we can help you.  _Please come back_ ,"

_I'm going to tear her throat out_

_**No you won't**_

_I will, watch me_

_**I won't let you**_

_THIS ISN'T YOUR BODY ANYMORE_

_**YES IT IS, GET OUT**_

_NO_

At first it's just a noise, a grinding sound in the hybrid's chest. Then the noise morphs into something else, something almost lost between the blood and fangs. "...N-Nora,"

"Pyrrha?"

_STOP STOP STOP_ "Nora...please,"  _KILL HER_

"Hang on, Pyrrha." she almost slurs, suddenly frantic, then takes a deep breath, " _Jaune_ , _get over here_ !"

"No...time,"

"Just hang in there, Pyrrha, Jaune's on his way and, and," the words suddenly leave her brain, everything just doesn't want to... _go_ . "H-he's going to get here and we're going to figure this out, okay? We'll be okay again,"

"I...I can't,"  _GET AWAY GET AWAY I HAVE TO GET OUT_

"Yes you can," all Nora can think to do now is to keep her talking, it's something, right? "Yes you can, because you're  _Pyrrha Nikos_ and you can do  _anything. Jaune_ ,  _move your ass_ !"

"I'm s- _sorry_ ," because she can't help herself and she's losing control again. Like flipping a switch Manticore goes from maintaining ground to the offensive, its upper body twisting until it literally rips itself from Nora's grasp. Nora staggers at the awful pain in her hands and blood gushing from the claw marks between her fingers. Manticore takes advantage of it, the Grimm's solid bone tail cracking hard against the huntress' shins. Smacking face first to the dirt makes her realize the blood she felt and smelled before was her own as crimson globs splash to the ground, she's even aware of how wet and sticky her shirt is now, but it isn't so distracting as to keep her from watching the hybrid jump over her and make a break for the tree line.

Nora muscles through the pain and stands up again, wasting not a second before she starts to run at full tilt. "Jaune, come on!" she shouts over her shoulder.

"I saw it, I'm right behind you," and he actually is. In fact, Nora's never seen him run that fast before, up until now she wasn't sure he  _could_ . He's on her heels as the two of them disappear into the jungle.

Across the way the second head of the Taijitu is finally separated from its body, the lumbering column of muscles and black ichor flopping over to twitch its last as its head rolls.

Maab shakes the blood from her wooden sword with on confident swing before cocking her head towards Ren. "Let's follow your team."

Ren only nods as the two start to sprint through the center of the village.

"Come along, Maiden, we've got it on the retreat!" Maab calls.

"I'll catch up, I'm sure you can hold it until I get there." Tag replies as the last of the lesser Grimm dissipates at her feet. She won't fully catch the last thing the Witch says to her, something about hurrying she thinks, but she's much too absorbed with the present state of Guardian and other pack mate.

Matt seems to be getting along, his face is twisted in pain though he moves without the burden of serious injury. But Billy's on the ground and she feels like her heart just dropped into her feet.  _Nature's mercy, don't let it be another heart attack._

"Little Witch went straight up  _lolo_ ," Matt is on his feet and making his way over. "She swung that hammer like she meant it."

"But Nora wouldn't," Tag looks back and forth between them, giving herself a good shake after a moment before kneeling over her Guardian and trying to rouse them. "That doesn't make any sense."

"None of this makes sense, not t'me anyway. But I couldn't tell ya why she did it -Billy swapped with me, and ya know how you're dizzy for a second, and then I look over and that hammer pops them in the chest and they just go  _flat_ ."

Tag just frowns, still shaking her head. She can still feel their heart beat, their chest is still moving with steady breaths, so she offers a little spark of magic through their link to bring them back up again.

"Nature's  _grace_ ," Billy groans aloud, one big hand going to their shoulder. "I...I think my shoulder's loose."

Tag helps them sit up, making sure they don't move to fast. A quick glance at where arm and torso meet give her the same impression, that the joint's come undone as it simply doesn't look in its proper place.

"I can put it back in for ya," Matt offers.

"Quickly." And Billy turns their head away, bracing as they feel Matt's hand smoother over where they know the bones have separated. There's a flux of aura, a loud, bony  _CLACK_ , and then Billy's body lurches forward with a dry retching noise. The Bison Faunus pushes through a few quick breaths and moments of radiating pain, but then appears as good as new.

"Where's my ax?"

"Still in the tree." Matt points with one thick thumb of his shoulder.

"Billy, what happened?" Tag stands up with them, the already troubled look on her face amplified when they won't look her in the eye. She watches them step away from her, retrieving their ax without a word.

"Where's everyone gone?"

"Billy, answer my question."

"What? How the hell am I supposed to know what's going through that girl's head? She's likely caught up in this hybrid business just like the rest of you."

"What do you mean by  _caught up_ ?"

Billy doesn't answer, this time their usually level eye contact drops low and away. They start walking again, now heading for the trees.

" _Billy_ ,"

They finally look back at her as they jerk to a stop, the silver in their eyes darkened. Matt is looking anxiously back and forth between them. He's never seen them act like this towards each other before.

"Tell me the truth." she demands tightly.

"You sound like you already know."

Tag felt her heart clench.

"We don't have time for this," Billy shakes their head. "If we don't hurry-"

"Stop avoiding it," the Otter snaps. "Tell me the truth! You were trying to kill her, weren't you?!"

" _Yes_ !" Billy bites back. "Of course I was trying to kill it, we're hunters, that's what we do!"

"How many times do I have to explain this to you? She isn't-"

"That  _thing_ murdered my family,  _and_ Matt's,  _and_ Elo's, and almost our entire village! I don't care what you say, I'm going to give that creature what it deserves!"

"I can't let you do that!" Tag's dark brown eyes are red and shimmering with half formed tears now. " _You know I can't_ !"

But at this point her Guardian doesn't care. Maiden or not, she wasn't going to stop them. With a defiant snort they start towards the jungle again, taking three angry and long strides before stopping. For a moment they don't move, their back to Tag and Matt as they feel a hot flash and the tug of magic in their wrist where their mark is.

"You won't." they snort. "You swore."

"Take another step and I won't have a  _choice_ ," because now Tag knows what's really going on, and her compulsion is at full attention. She knows exactly how this is going to play out if Billy didn't back down. She chokes on a small sob. " _Please_ don't make me,"

For several tense seconds, the Maiden and her Guardian just look at each other. Then the magic does what it must.

\--

Jaune is pumping his legs for all he's worth, mindful of raised root beds and hidden stumps and drops as the lot of them are led off the trail. He's just able to see Manticore bounding through the jungle but a few yards ahead of him. He can feel Nora beside him, and he knows Ren and Maab are close by. "She could be headed for the beach, we need to stop her before that."

"But that's good, isn't it?" Nora's panting hard now, a combination of fatigue and blood loss, but she doesn't show signs of slowing even after plowing straight through a small tree. "We could corner her against the sea."

"Yes, but you forget the two airships full of Atlesian steel it could throw back at us!" Maab counters as she jumps from tree to tree, not wishing to be hindered by the dense undergrowth. "Jaune is right, we need to contain it while we've got the chance." A job, she knows, that is far easier said than done. A quick glance behind reveals the Spring Maiden has yet to catch up to them, which only reinforces the notion. "There should be a ravine up ahead, maybe we can bottle it in. Jaune, you and Nora make sure it keeps this path. Ren, stick with me, with our speed we should be able to cut it off on the far side."

 

Of all the things it had learned to feel, Manticore believes that panic was the second worst of the lot -coming up close behind pain. It's panicking now because it hadn't expected this to go so badly. Everything was wrong and it couldn't explain it away. These hunters weren't supposed to be  _ready_ , they were supposed to suffer and die. It wasn't supposed to be running away, it should have been ripping them to pieces with its bare hands -and this stupid bitch in its head is supposed to  _let it_ !

_**Stop running** _

_Stop fighting_

_**STOP RUNNING**_

_SHUT UP_

_**NO**_

The hybrid groans in pain at the wild scream echoing in its skull but still holds pace, its head dropping and leaving it briefly blind to any obstacles ahead. It shakes the noise away just in time to swerve around the trunk of a tree, and then realizes it's lost some ground as it picks up bits of pink and red in its peripheral vision. It tries to veer away, change direction, but is dissuaded by a sudden pitch of magic that it feels in the small hairs across the host's body before it sees the bright, turquoise flash of ball lightning shooting through the air to land in its path. It skids to a stop just shy of the scorched plants and earth, kicking off into a fresh sprint just before Jaune can throw himself at it. He lands face first in the dirt but hardly wastes an instant to get back to his feet.

He can't quit now, not when they're so close -in equal parts to success or disaster. He just can't quit, he can't screw this up, he has. To follow.  _Through_ .

Manticore comes upon the ravine without its notice, the walls of earth and exposed roots pulling up on either side and leaving it no way other than forward. Were it not limited by a human form it could have easily jumped out. Reaching the far end it watches with a lancing terror as the exit is wreathed in bright blue flame, the Faunus Witch having conjured it up behind her. The other young huntsman is with her, looking to have cast aside the flint knives, but it can sense and see the fine pink sheen of his aura on his hands. Turning back Manticore finds itself thoroughly trapped, Jaune and Nora steadily closing in. But it's only partly worried; the redhead looks to be turning a little gray, her chest heaving like she's about to drop. If it can get passed  _that stupid boy_ , getting around her -or killing her outright- would be easy work.

_**I won't let you hurt them anymore** _

_Try to stop me_

First it tries to rally more of its smaller kin, but the usual pulse of dark energy sputters and dies. It tries again, and again, finally stopping when it feels the strain on itself in a way it hadn't before. The panic grows, forcing it to react out of desperation. Though it's convinced it won't work, Manticore forces the host's Semblance to attention. Like a fish on a hook it feels something...

_**STOP STOP STOP** _

_MAKE ME_

...And then pulls as hard as it can. It's more confused than pleased to watch as Jaune stumbles towards it in the most ridiculous way -crotch first- as the surge of polarity rips the button from his jeans and sends it whistling through the air like a bullet. Out of reflex Manticore twists away, out of the makeshift missile's path to let it collide with Ren. His body jerks inward on itself, arms crossing over his middle, and Nora screams his name with her shattering voice accompanied by a peal of thunder. Maab begs her to stay where she is, and somehow she finds it in her to comply but only after the older Witch assures her he's still breathing.

Jaune is still stumbling forward and Manticore is only partly ready. It feels the weight of his shield and resists it, twisting until its position feels right before swiping upward with its claws.  _I'M GOING TO RIP OUT HIS HEART AND HE CAN WATCH YOU EAT IT AS HE DIES_

It registers ripping fabric and a gasp of shock, expecting to see blood once it got its bearings back.

_**JAUNE** _

His hoodie is ripped from hem to collar, the poor little rabbit emblem split in the middle and revealing the solid gemstone breastplate hidden beneath, much to the hybrid's disgusted hiss. It looks at the crown insignia on the armor and then up at him, the two meeting equally disbelieving expressions before the hybrid lunges at him claws first.

Jaune reacts with a pulse of his Semblance and a big step back, and in the same instant he turns the sword over in his hand so the blade points to the ground. He knows this isn't a job for a sword, but he wasn't about to throw the weapon away and at the very least he can still make use of it as a second shield. Something in his brain is telling him over and over that he needs to get Pyrrha off her feet, once he takes her movement away everything else will fall into place.

Then Tag would arrive, swooping in to save them like Maidens do, break the spell over her and then they could all go back to something like a normal life. Team JNPR would be whole again.

He's ripped from his brief daydream by the sharp pressure of wind against his face, Manticore's claws just coming just shy of tearing his already bloodied nose clean off. Another reactionary push of his Semblance puts distance between them again, giving him half a second to think. Jaune catches sight of the tail whipping towards him, raising his shield and wincing at the impact he hears and feels more than sees. His body tightens up further as he lets his aura take another hit for him, claws glancing off his arm with a flicker of gold light. The hybrid just keeps pushing and pushing, doing everything it can to force an opening, until a stray jab with Jaune's sword hand connects soundly with its teeth and sends it reeling back.

Jaune mentally recoils, his stomach twisting. He doesn't want to do this, he doesn't want to have to hit her. Nora's words from mere hours ago are ringing in his head, stinging.

"Stay down," he commands firmly, almost unable to recognize the agency in his own voice. "Please,  _Pyrrha_ , just stay down."

The hybrid glares back at him, fresh blood gushing from its nose and split lip. Its body expands and contracts with a low, chesty growl, with ribbons of smoke lacing through the air from the corners of its mouth.

"We  _know_ you're still in there...let us help you."

And while the host struggles to overcome, earnest and exhausted, Manticore will have none of it.

The next few moments pass in a wild blur. In truth not a one of them will come to have a complete and accurate memory of it, including Maab who mostly watches the events unfold as she keeps the exit of the ravine. She remembers Ren getting up, his frame shaking a little from the vestiges of feeling like his guts were almost shoved through the small of his back, and then jumping to snatch Manticore's tail as the hybrid lunges for Jaune. When it starts to drag him she quickly gathers up Ren's ankles beneath her arms and plants herself as an anchor. Then her focus is split between what's happening and what she hears, breaking up her ability to decipher words and actions separately in her mind. She  _knows_ she hears Nora shouting again, but she can't suss out what, and at the same time  _thinks_ she can hear Matt from  _somewhere_ but can't see him. Both of her ears are moving fast and in different directions, trying to gather information all the while she keeps her eyes focused on what's just in front of her. Next she feels a rhythmic vibration in the ground beneath her, a sensation that steadily grows in seconds -it takes as long for her to realize it's hooves.

"Auntie Witch, get those kids outta there!" Now she's certain it's Matt because he's the only one who calls her that, but she still doesn't know where he is. All the same, she starts pulling on Ren's legs like her life depends on it, knowing any less effort than that wouldn't allow her little self to move the bigger huntsman even an inch.

Jaune had been listening, somehow hearing the exchange between the Faunus and understanding, and somehow divides his attention between Manticore's claws and Ren's hands on its tail. Once his grip comes undone, Jaune expands his Semblance into a hemisphere of light around himself and the hybrid. Above him, Matt perches on the edge of the ravine, making a strange, confused noise as he quickly contemplates whether or not his own Semblance can get through the barrier. He tries anyhow, managing to pin Manticore to the ground just as it's pushing passed Jaune's shield and going for his throat. The hybrid writhes against the ground, furious, spurts of fire flashing from between its teeth.

"Gang way!"

It's the sound of hooves, now loud enough for everyone to hear and alert them to the silver bison barreling down the path. Nora spots Tag on Billy's back and feels a jolt of panic. Without thinking she puts herself directly in their way, arms and legs out in defiance though she slouches with fatigue. She hasn't forgotten what the Guardian had tried to do and she wasn't about to let them have another chance.

Tag understands, she understands and hates the gut wrenching guilt and wishes she had the time to explain but that simply isn't the case. With a pulse of magic she latches on to one of the countless roots that line the walls of the ravine, willing it to snap around Nora's wrist and yank her aside. As she barrels by she offers an apology, hoping the poor girl won't hate her for this. And right behind the little prayer is a bigger one that she won't be able to break free before she can do what she has to, mostly because she  _knows_ that's a fight she would lose.

The Spring Maiden dismounts, jumping off of Billy's back and rolling through the impact in the seconds before her Guardian's massive frame flashes platinum white. Billy's still in a full sprint when they come through the star burst of light.

"Jaune, drop your Semblance and get out of there," Tag shouts, "let us finish this,"

His instincts are split between his trust and his fear; his trust that Tag will do all she can to help, and the fear that if he steps away all of this will fall apart. Something in the back of his head is telling him  _**something** will go **wrong**_ .

"Jaune,  _please_ !"

And no sooner does he pull back his Semblance and step aside does Billy pass him in a blur.

"Jaune, you have to stop them!" Nora's almost hoarse, throat choked with fury and tears. "Billy's going to kill her!"

He feels the blood leave his face and immediately turns to Tag. Before he can even form the first word, Tag has her hand up. He reacts in part to the gesture, but he mostly pauses because he realizes Tag's eyes are glowing a solid, brilliant green. Only now does he sense the lively swell of her magic around him, drawing goosebumps.

"It's all right, I know what's going on." she says calmly, the most serious she's likely ever seemed. "I've taken care of it."

And as badly as he wants an explanation, he can't draw up the words to ask for it. All he can do is watch.

What Nora and Jaune can't see is that Billy's eyes are glowing as well, a strange mixture of sterling and emeralds. With an uncharacteristic steadiness and certainty, Billy approaches the hybrid and Matt drops his Semblance as the Guardian reaches for the plates on its back. With their massive hand they pluck Manticore off the ground, holding it there like it's nothing though it's snarling and thrashing for all it's worth. They'll catch its tail with their free hand and then swing the creature hard into the earthen wall close by. Twice more and it looks a bit stunned, toxic eyes swimming. They put all of their weight into one last heavy shove, pinning Manticore to the wall

Manticore starts to panic, feels it at a new and terrifying intensity. It can see Billy's hand starting to glow, silver light pooling into the almost impossible space between its skin and theirs. Through the remnants of its haze it claws madly at the Faunus' arm, just barely breaking the skin and unsure why it can't rip right through them.

_I don't want to die I don't WANT TO DIE I DON'T WANT TO DIE_

And just under the mortified roaring and echoing thoughts, Pyrrha resigns herself to whatever is to happen next. Everything is washed white with magic, and for a moment they all perceive nothing but their own existence.

 

 

 

Author's Note: Did someone say cliffhanger? Because I'm pretty sure I heard someone say cliffhanger. Next chapter should end the first act, so you're almost there! Also, in case anyone was wondering "lolo" is Hawaiian slang for crazy. I've coded Matt (who is a trans man, by the by) as a Pacific Islander, so I thought it okay to slip a little Pidgin in there. If I'm mistaken or have upset anyone over this (be it for racial or gender reasons), please feel free to drop me a message.

 


	41. Chapter Forty

Once Jaune can see again, once he's rubbed the stars from his eyes and reminded himself that he's still alive and didn't just get obliterated into nothing, he all but throws his sword and shield to the ground.

His legs almost won't move, certainly won't move fast enough to keep up with his wildly beating heart. His mind is humming with thoughts - _Oh my god, oh my god, it's her, she's here, is she....she's still breathing. She's still gray. I have to get to her, I have to help her or she'll die. I can't lose her again, for gods' sake-_ and that coupled with his heart and his useless feet almost drag him to the dirt. He pays absolutely zero mind to anyone else around him, he doesn't even acknowledge Billy stumbling aside before they drop against the opposite wall of the ravine and slide down into a sitting position. And he doesn't know or much less care that Tag is on his heels as he falls to his knees beside Pyrrha.

Her hands are shivering, fingers limply flexing as if the nerves are simply firing on their own, without intent. The bright red hand print on her chest is steaming -at least he hopes it's just steam- and raw looking, and her breaths sound too quick and too short. The bone plates have been thoroughly busted up and fall away in charcoal chunks. What looks like stains of splashed ink still streak her skin but look to be steadily receding. She's naked, but that doesn't draw Jaune's eyes away from her bloodied face. Without a second thought he reaches out slowly, gently lining her jaw with his hand - _gods, she's solid-_ to turn her face towards him. Her eyelids are parted, and from what he can see her eyes are moving just barely behind them. Aimless, glossed over.

"Here, let me take her." Tag is now across from him, already trying to work her arms around Pyrrha's body with or without his approval. She sees the wariness and worry in his eyes and it crushes her. "Please trust me."

He nods with only a little reluctance. He's just scared and he doesn't know what to do and so much is happening at once and...and... _and_. Jaune quickly twists out of his shredded hoodie, draping it over Pyrrha. It's the most and least he can think to do.

Tag gives him a brief smile before negotiating Pyrrha against her chest, her head propped against the Faunus' shoulder. She moves her hand to hover over the livid hand print, not touching it, and her entire form begins to glow. The light waxes and wanes, and then spreads across Pyrrha, the magic forming a link before starting its work. Tag lurches, swaying at the sensation of being punched in the stomach.

"Are you okay?" Jaune frets, going impossibly more pale than he already was.

"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just-" _she's dying_ "sh-she's so weak. It's going to take a lot to...t-to stabilize her." She feels her magic being pulled, like dragging barbwire through her veins into Pyrrha's pain choked body - _Nature's grace, you poor girl-_ and it's already testing her tolerance. Something is resisting too, the feeling of steel wool and teeth. She's never had to dive head first into something like this.

For a handful of moments it's anxiously quiet.

"You all right, grandson?"

He blinks, seemingly unaware for all of three seconds, then his wits come back. "Y-yeah, yeah, I'm all right. Everything's okay." A moment later Ren comes into his line of sight. It takes Jaune a moment to raise his eyes. Taking in the lost and forlorn expression on Ren's face is almost impossible, it's easily the most emotion Jaune's seen him show in a _long_ time and it all but breaks his heart. Somehow it makes all this that much more _real_ , because if Ren's seeing all this and reacting to it, it _has to be_ happening. "Check on Nora."

Unsure pink irises move one way and then the other, darting once between Pyrrha and Jaune, before he appears to suck his feelings down and go neutral with a curt nod. He steps quickly out of sight, and it's shortly after that Jaune realizes Nora had been hysterically sobbing, but only after she tries to stop.

Maab steps around, her wall of foxfire dropped and Thorn tucked away in her belt again, and Matt is with her. For a moment the two Faunus just stand and stare, the Witch's ears gently tilted back and her brow knit with a mixture of trouble and curious interest.

"I don't feel Salem's touch on her." Maab says, somber. "So either it wasn't her magic or the spell's been broken."

Part of Jaune is skeptical. If the spell was broken, wouldn't Pyrrha stop looking like this? Wouldn't the gray and black fade? And what about the glaring redness he spied in the middle of her chest? "Then maybe the others have come back through the mirror already."

Maab shakes her head. "I would know."

Jaune swallows, then chances to ask Matt about what's nagging him. "Is it true what Nora said? Did Billy try to kill Pyrrha?"

"I mean," the Tortoise rubs the back of his thick neck with his broad hand. "I didn't see it for myself, but I think she did, so...still, they admitted to it. I'm sorry, kid." And he and Jaune turn their heads at the same time, stealing an extended glance at the now unconscious Guardian.

"What happened to them?"

"Tag pulled rank, to put it simply." Matt tilts his head. "Maiden's gotta do whatta Maiden's gotta do."

"Will they be okay?"

"After a spell, yeah. At least I think so, but you can bet they won't be happy."

Jaune just nods after weighing what the words mean. If he was being honest with himself -which he is, painfully so for the first time in a while- it was something for later.

The Tortoise crosses his arms and takes a breath. "So what's next, Auntie Witch?"

"We certainly don't move her, not yet anyway, she's awfully fragile." Maab's ears tilt further back, concerned. She can't even feel a flicker of Pyrrha's aura, but she wasn't really expecting to. "Although going for help and bringing them back here is going to take quite a while."

"At least one of the airships is on the beach, they've got medics on board." Jaune's throat is tightening and he doesn't know why, only that it's obvious when he talks. He looks up at his grandmother. "Take Nora and Ren with you? Make sure they're okay?"

"Of course. Do you suppose we should rush?" and she cocks her head, hoping Tag will realize she's speaking to her.

"Don't rush, but don't dawdle." is all the Spring Maiden says as she tries to maintain her focus.

"Would you help me, Matt?"

" _Rajah dat_ , auntie."

"And you, Jaune? You're a little battered up too,"

"I'm fine." he couldn't leave even if he was a blink away from dropping dead. "You go ahead. Besides, if there are any smaller Grimm lurking around here, Tag will need backup."

Maab smiles a little, looking proud. "We'll be back."

His grandmother's footfalls seem so loud yet so distant at the same time, and Jaune's fixated on them until they disappear. Suddenly he feels so isolated, like the world is suddenly just too big for him. He wants so badly to touch her, part of him is jonesing for physical contact just so he can still be sure that she's real. Jaune reaches out without thinking, but immediately recoils when he feels the heat of Tag's aura push against him.

The Maiden knows he's...well, a lot of things right now. Tag knows he's brimming with countless thoughts and feelings because she can feel it in a way, the vibration like the buzzing of a few hundred flies in her head. She didn't want to risk them blurring together like before, mostly because she didn't need the added interference, secondly because she didn't think either three of them would be able to handle it. So she just bites her lip, concentrates, and lets the magic do what it must. All the while trying to understand why she keeps hearing _I'm sorry_ over and over in her head.

 

_(--)_

The tunnels beneath the fortress seem to twist and turn on each other in countless ways and reach on forever. And it's dark, _so dark_ down here. Ruby rushes the passages as a wolf so that she's actually able to see, plus it's a more compact shape that lets her navigate the sometimes blind bends in the path with greater ease. In some places the tunnel chokes into a suffocating smallness, too small for even her to pass through with Crescent Rose. Thankfully it's difficult for her to lose her way down here, as she can suss out her own trail by the petals she's left behind. For a flicker of an instant she hopes that won't sabotage her in the future; this is Salem's territory after all.

 _Gotta find Ozpin, gotta find Ozpin. Maybe this would be easier if I knew what he smelled like._ She has to shake her head to refocus when the train of thought tries to get too far away from her.

There's a trembling crash from above, seeming to rattle through the entire complex and Ruby narrowly dodges around some debris that collapses from the ceiling. She takes a moment to look back, swallowing when she realizes the passage is almost completely blocked now. Hopefully there's another way out that she just doesn't know about. In any case, she keeps pushing forward, steadily working her way deeper down, down, down.

She's partly unsettled by the absence of Grimm down here. She expected it to be teeming with them, but there isn't hide nor hair of the creatures to be found. So she speeds down each corridor undeterred. Then she skids to a stop when she feels it, the impossible, smothering weight of black magic that she recognized from those few terrible seconds that Salem had been all but under her skin. Instinctively she bears her fangs, growling low as her ears snap back and she turns in place to look for the Witch. Ruby's entire body bristles and tenses, all fur on end as she spies the burning crimson eyes hidden down the corridor before her, the only visible light within an oppressive veil of absolute darkness.

Salem steps out of the shadows as the blackness retreats, kowtowing to her presence. Still it feels like her energy chokes the place, massive, and she glowers down at the lupine Guardian, pointed teeth just showing. Abrasions and what look like streaks of ash smudge her once porcelain face, and inky tears roll to her jawline and down her neck. Her body expands with a full intake of breath and there's a spark of green energy that arcs up along one slender arm that makes her flinch -the vestiges of her sister's efforts to stop her.

"You won't find him," she hisses, her eyes thinning with a tightening brow, "you won't find him, just like _they_ won't be able to find _you_ before I-" she bites off the last words, recoiling in shock as the wolf lunges. Reflexively she raises her arm, shrieking in fury as teeth find their way into her flesh.

Ruby does her best to drag Salem to the floor, her big, furry body whipping in an attempt to at least get the Witch off balance. The scent and taste of sour copper fills her heightened senses, all but sickening, fangs knock against bone and she wants to gag. But she refuses to let go, even as Salem raises the small scythe in her other hand and brings it down. For the briefest second she can see a warped blending of their reflections in the silvery blade, and then her eyes screw shut at a terrible burning in her face. The wolf yips and pulls away, but only for a second before turning back and going for the Witch's other arm. This time her powerful jaws close around Salem's hand, and all she can think to do is twist and jerk her head in every direction until something gives.

Salem eventually wrenches herself free, dropping her weapon and buckling to her knees with her savagely maimed hand tucked against her chest. Her mouth is wide open in a silent scream, the pain wracking her nerves sinking deep, deep down into her own consciousness as well as that of the darkness within her. It only serves to stoke the rage in both of them. Salem's eyes are brighter now, vicious, and all her teeth are visible in a snarl as fresh black tears surge from her eyes. She quickly stands as she sucks in a breath, and then with a wave of her other arm she calls a pack of Beowolves out of the shadows from behind her.

It's four exceptionally large ones, and that's more than Ruby feels she can take head on with Salem around. In a flurry of osiria she spins around and bolts away, making a turn at the far end of the passage at breakneck speed. Naturally the lesser Grimm follow, and she keeps her ears tuned to the scrambling claws and growls that echo towards her as she goes. But all the while she's looking for a way out, she has to keep moving and find Ozpin. About half a dozen tunnels along she finds her best option: a shaft in the wall that goes straight down into an abyssal sort of nothing.

 

Several levels above, Glynda and the rest of Team RWBY have begun following the trail of flower petals and are quickly making their way through the tunnels. Salem, on the other hand, has no need of such things; the darkness in her sniffs out the silver magic like a vulture sniffs out decay and she saunters back into the shadows, disappearing with them.

 

Ruby hits the bottom of the shaft sooner than she expects, unconsciously thankful that there's a slope to the opening that allows her momentum to more or less eject her into the next tunnel instead of letting her fall flat on her face. The impact disrupts the magic and forces her back into human form with an abrupt flash of light and a burst of osiria. She's soundly dazed, her knees by her ears as she's wedged against the wall of the cavern on her head. As her wits ease back into focus she carefully rolls onto her hands and knees, choking down the urge to puke as she spits out a bit of gristle. Eventually the world stops spinning and she feels she can stand. She'll blink her vision clear once she opens her eyes fully, doing so partly from the daze and partly from the blood. Curiosity gets the better of her and she touches where the burn in her face is coming from, the pain spiking when her fingertips brush the clean slice across her forehead that's perilously close to her right eye. Ruby wipes her forearm across her face, smudging sweat and crimson across the sleeve without a second thought.

She finds herself in another too small passage and it's just as dark and quiet as the last countless few she'd dashed through. She doesn't feel up to transforming again yet so that she can see, so she sits tight for a spell, lifting her aura up to protect her on every side in case of attack. Gods only knew what was lurking down this far. And once Ruby feels safe enough, she tries again to reach Weiss. At first all she gets is sputtering white noise, but then something starts trickling along their link. She doesn't understand any of it, but it's Weiss' voice and it's a comfort she needs right now.

 _I think I'm all right, but I don't really know where I am._ Ruby thinks into the aether, not expecting an answer. _All I know for sure is that I went down. If you're headed in that direction, look out for Beowolves. Salem too._

Ruby swallows hard as she thinks of the Witch, fear trying to inch its way a little closer. She shakes her head -now isn't the time to lose heart. After a moment she pushes herself to her feet even though she still doesn't feel ready, tucking Crescent Rose under her arm with one finger on the trigger, and she'll continue mentally reaching for her Maiden as she carefully makes her way through the cavern though the reception between the huntresses only seems to worsen the further she dares to go. The anxiety around the silence of the place starts creeping up her back again, she's still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Grimm to come barreling around the corner at her.

Two tunnels down she pauses, not because of what she hears but what she feels. The air is different here, it isn't as still and it doesn't have the same stagnant smell like everywhere else she's been. She'll follow the tiny whispers of airflow further on, deeper into the underdark, until the blackness starts to break up. It begins to fade into faint shades of purple and red, shards of light that her eyes can just pick up become steadily brighter. Eventually she comes to a corridor lined on one side with what look like sheets of glass much like what they had all stepped through when they exited the mirror. It's strangely purple and full of holes, illuminated by the light from the shattered moon above filtering in through openings in the ceiling that punch straight through. Thankfully the cavern opens up a little, making her feel a touch more comfortable in advancing knowing she could use her scythe more effectively if need be -it would still be a tight squeeze, but she would make it work.

Half way along she freezes at a shuffling further down the line, something too obvious for her to miss and too sudden for her aura not to bristle in defense. Crescent Rose sits against her shoulder, the barrel resolutely forward and one of Ruby's hands swiftly pulling the bolt to load the chamber. For several beats of her pounding heart there's nothing, then-

"Is someone there?"

Ruby partly relaxes, her head cocking to one side with curiosity tightening her brow. For a moment she simply isn't sure if she heard right, then she spies a distinctly human hand reaching through one of the holes in a pane of glass a little further down.

"...Professor Ozpin?" she calls back on the chance she's right. She certainly hopes she's right.

"Why yes," comes a delightedly curious response, "Miss Rose?"

Ruby quickly dashes the remaining distance between her and Ozpin's hand in the glass, her boots skidding on the stone floor as she comes to a stop. There he is, pushing up against the glass, his brows reaching for his hairline. For a moment the two just look at each other, equally surprised to see one another. Finally Ruby releases a relieved exhale, smiling. "Are you okay, professor?"

"As can be expected I suppose, yes. You're not alone, are you?"

"Glynda and the rest of my team are here, just not," she fumbles briefly, "not _here_ -here."

"What about Salem?"

"I don't know. I'm sure she's around here somewhere, so we need to hurry."

"And Pyrrha? Have you seen her?"

Ruby would never fully discern why it took her so long to answer, but she chalked it up to a tie between the genuine urgency in his tone and expression that she had never seen before, and the fact that she didn't expect the question in the first place. She nods. "Yeah. We...we're trying to handle it."

The concern morphs into resignation. "If you can break the glass, we can be on our way."

"You got it. Better stand back." Ruby will wait, watching until she knows he's not directly in her line of sight before raising Crescent Rose and pulling the trigger. A quick but lengthy succession of rounds bark from the barrel, flashes of light fracturing the darkness in congress with the volcanic glass as bullets plug a chain of holes that reaches from the ceiling to the floor. Now she knows she has to work that much faster -surely Salem heard that and was on her way.

With practiced quickness she turns Crescent Rose and lets it blossom, the blade catching what little light there is with a winking glimmer. With noticeable care and awareness of the cave's confines, Ruby swings the scythe and parts the already fragile bond in the glass, separating it flawlessly. It isn't a space big enough to squeeze through, but the glancing impact is enough to start cracks that spiderweb across the rest of the formation. _Pop-pop-scritch_ , lines appear and spread. She readies for another swing, Crescent Rose rising behind her, but then she tenses as she feels a shift in the air.

She's here.

The darkness on the fringes of the cavern swells and morphs, trying to swallow everything as it surges towards the young huntress in a hungry wave. At the center of it is that haunting, stark white face streaked with tar black tears, and those eyes that ever burn with rage and hate. Ruby thought she was ready, she thought those few scant milliseconds before the Witch made her move was enough to...do something, but then she remembers just how massive it feels to have Salem in the same space, how suffocating her energy is, and then she feels the panic corroding in the back of her brain.

Ruby jumps back in the direction of the tunnel, lining the barrel up with Salem's form as quickly as she can and begins to pull the lever and the trigger in perfect rhythm. Salem closes in on her all the same, faster even, all the while each bullet seems to just pass right through her as if she's little more than mist. Ruby's heel catches on a stone jutting up from the floor and she stumbles, rolling onto her back and tucking as tightly into herself as she can so the Witch can pass over her. Salem quickly doubles back, the darkness around her scattering as she takes decisive, stabbing steps towards Ruby. Clawed hands flex, knuckles clicking and fingers dripping with glossy black ichor -it seems to well out of her pores, viscous tar that coats her arms almost to the elbow. When the little huntress is on her feet again Salem makes an upward sweep with one hand, a grand gesture that sends a sliver of tar in her direction with destructive momentum. Ruby jumps aside, looking away from the Witch long enough to watch it slice right into the stone wall and disappear into the incision it made. Ruby tries a few more rounds before giving up on the idea, quite certain it won't matter how good a shot she is.

Now she raises the blade of Crescent Rose to defend herself, only so sure of it in this still too small space. She spins the scythe close to her body, turning it as quickly as she can so it orbits her waist and torso and no further. She catches a trio of the ichor blades at once with her own and it almost throws her to the ground, her arms painfully shocked from the impact, but she doesn't let her guard down completely. Once there's an opening she makes a short dash forward, hoping Salem will think she's dumb enough to make a full frontal assault -she buys it well enough, leaving Ruby the few precious seconds she needs to change direction and jump from the cavern wall. Once air born she throws all her weight forward, spinning like a saw blade with her scythe just a silvery blur that spits sparks as it grazes the floor and ceiling. While she doesn't strike the Witch, she manages to hit the glass barrier of Ozpin's cell.

There's no time to do anything about it, Ruby won't allow herself the distraction -Ozpin's a grown man after all, he can figure something out on his own. Ruby smoothly comes to a stop and turns, redoubling her efforts again. Something in her mind is telling her just to keep moving -don't hold still, don't give her an easy target -and that's exactly what she means to do. In a flurry of flower petals and a shot from the barrel she speeds across the distance between her and Salem, leading with the bladed butt of the weapon. She gets as close as she can, expecting to miss and therefore able to think a few steps ahead before she actually does. Still keeping Crescent Rose close to her frame she keeps step with the Witch, allowing no more than an arm's length to grow between them.

Salem seems to know all of her tricks and can bend almost bonelessly away from her blade as if she sees it coming. But she isn't having much luck in gaining ground against Ruby either; the girl's young but her aura is robust and what few blows she lands glances off the invisible barrier in a shower of sparks. Genuine shock wracks her and the darkness within when the little girl props herself on her scythe and drop kicks her in the stomach, but it isn't so powerful or painful that she can't retaliate. Her wicked will ripples through the muck on her hands, congealing it into a tendril that she wraps around Ruby's waist and twists. The girl is now spinning wildly in mid-air, and Salem strikes her back to the ground with enough force to scatter stones and dust upward. Then, for good measure, she returns her previous courtesy of boot to the gut. Ruby slides part way back down the cavern, rolling to a stop.

A part of her is impressed. Salem had expected the girl to be -at the least- above average because she knew damn good and well there was a reason Ozpin had so much faith in her. Rightfully so, she supposed. The child was talented, stood a chance at being great -greater even than Summer whom she had held in lofty regard at one time- but she's still _just_ a _child_. And as far as the Witch is concerned, children are for killing.

Not too casually she stalks over to where Ruby struggles to shake off the daze, huddled on her hands and knees. The fingers on one hand steadily hook, small bones clicking as the black slime starts to shimmer and harden into a fine, spiked point that juts out from between her first two knuckles. _What to do_ she contemplates with every closing step; _I don't want to just kill her. I'd like her to suffer a little...I know. Her_ _ **eyes**_ _. Yes. I'll take those damnable eyes_ _ **first**_ _, and then...well, who knows?_ Salem laughs, a light, chesty chuckle as her mouth turns into an open wound of a grin with visible fangs. The hellish glow of her eyes waxes bright and bloody while she raises her hand, her body tensing just when Ruby lifts her head to see what's coming.

As the blade comes down Ruby rolls onto her backside and pushes with her heels as hard as she's able, ripping up a burst of aura to propel her away. She hits the cavern wall several feet away, head snapping back into unforgiving stone, but it's a far cry better than being run through. When she looks up again she can plainly see the amusement on Salem's face has been replaced with a caustic rancor, and her eyes follow the line of white skin from her face to her throat and down her arm to where the solid ichor stiletto is stuck in the floor. She can't look away as she blindly pats the stone for Crescent Rose -any part of it at all- and watches the Witch steadily straighten and start towards her again.

Her hand snaps around the handle of her scythe just as Salem comes over her, the jet black spike growing that much longer before Salem lunges again. There's not enough room, not enough time for the young huntress to react. Her breath catches in her throat and she swears her heart stops.

The tip of the makeshift weapon just touches the skin at Ruby's throat before Salem's body seizes, a furious, pained wail erupting from some deep, untouchable place as her chest juts upward and she staggers back. For a moment she's frozen that way, a statue of gripping agony, and this allows Ruby to see Ozpin just behind her, close enough to be a part of her. One arm is around her waist, the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor, the other arm is flat against her back, forearm parallel to her spine and a large shard of volcanic glass in his fist. Little ribbons of blood stain between his fingers, his grip much too tight, and a little more wells from underneath, though some is streaked black and belongs to Salem.

But it's only for a moment.

Salem somehow twists in his grip, frictionless, and she turns to face him as one of her hooked hands swings upward from below and nestles itself firmly under his ribs. The air jumps out of him, his vocal chords vibrating with a strangled lurch, and his honey colored eyes bulge in the sockets of his quickly whitening face.

Salem pants heavy and heated breaths through her clenched jaw, tight anger and frustration tightening her brow and thinning her eyes. She almost shakes her head -she just can't understand why he always has to _meddle_.

"Oh, Jarreth," she growls, "for all the countless eras you've lived, you still haven't _learned._ _ **Anything**_. Have you?" she wedges her hand that much deeper, making him sputter. "Well the time has _finally_ ," deeper still, "come for me to _teach_. _**You**_."

Ruby is watching, her brain only partly comprehending, but she can't make herself move. She's filled with an all too familiar helplessness, some of her thoughts spinning off to that last night at Beacon.

Blood is starting to pool in Salem's hand and trickle down her wrist, but she's only just broken the muscle wall and into his chest cavity. She wants this to be slow, she wants to make sure it _keeps_. As much as she would prefer to watch him _**burn**_ , this would just have to do. It will have to do because she's had enough of him.

"All this time you've been trying to destroy me, and all this time you've failed. Even your _mother_ couldn't stop me. She couldn't stop me, _Vatra_ couldn't even _find me_ , then you lost her too! And Seren, well," a little laugh, "we all know what happened to _her_. Then the sow that spat you out gave it one last go, didn't she? Sacrificing herself like the noble _bitch_ she always thought she was. After all that," one more good shove puts her clawing fingers behind his ribs, between and beneath his lungs, and around his heart which flutters like a caged bird in her loose grip. "After. _All._ _ **That**_...this is where you are. You poor, _**stupid**_ man."

"Y-yes," he forces out, no voice and all choked air. "Yes, I am a s-stupid man. And th-this is where I am. B-but," he swallows the bloody thickness in his throat and endures the awful burning of her hand tightening in his chest, "but you're right here...w-with me. _And you're never getting_ _ **out**_."

Salem's eyes stray from him momentarily, sliding to the side as if she means to look over her shoulder at the trembling huntress she knows is there. That terrible grin cuts a little wider. "That remains to be seen. But not by you. Goodbye, Jarreth." and she squeezes. Squeezes and squeezes until... _pop_. One last burst of air leaves him, and then he stills as Salem lets him slump to the floor. Her own ribs still expand and contract with quick breaths, quicker still when she takes a moment to pull the large sliver of glass from her back with an only slightly awkward reach back.

Then she snaps around, shadows swirling at her feet as she faces Ruby...who is no longer where Salem expected her to be. She's gone, not a trace to be found, not even a stray flower petal. Her burning eyes scan the darkness, searching by sight and sensation for the young huntress. Something in her gut tells her the child hasn't gone far, she can just sense her on the peripherals of her influence like one feels static in the air. Her blackened instincts are telling her something is coming, that the spring of poorly conceived trap is winding into place and about to release. Wait...just wait... _wait_...then...

She feels the movement of the air before anything else and reflexively begins to move. Her solid frame seems to melt away to shade as Crescent Rose comes whistling through the air from overhead, the Witch still grinning as determined and furious silver eyes cut into her instead of the curved blade. Just as quickly Salem reaches out, her fingers gripping powerfully and painfully into Ruby's hair, pushing downward to follow the girl's momentum and send her spinning towards the ground. She keeps pressure on the young huntress, her entire body making three full rotations before Salem grabs Ruby's weapon with a tendril of tar and wrenches it from her grip, then proceeds to slam her to the floor. Salem holds her there for a moment, face down, and then the black muck around her hand spreads and thickens, binding Ruby fast and flipping her over. It surges upward, raising her helplessly a few feet above the floor, like a sacrifice on an altar. Salem loves the look of fear laced defiance on her face, just as the darkness in her _loves_ it, loves to watch the poor child struggle fruitlessly.

But, to be honest, that awful thing inside the Witch is _quite certain_ she isn't struggling _hard enough._

Still holding Crescent Rose aloft, well out of Ruby's reach, Salem starts to steadily close the fingers of her other hand, the vice around Ruby shifting, forming a single wriggling digit that moves of its own accord. Under Salem's gentle guidance it slithers along Ruby's side, following the furrows of her ribs until it finds the paper thin wounds the Witch had made early, and then promptly forces itself inside. The pain is both hot and cold, blistering and disgusting, and the sound that leaps out of Ruby's throat is one she doesn't recognize. She's never made a sound like this before in her entire life and it's awful to hear ringing in her own head. And it's all she can do, she doesn't have a breath's clearance to move though her muscles fight to. They fight so hard it hurts.

Every dull click of her knuckles makes the tendril move, sometimes pushing deeper, sometimes just twisting up on itself, either way it causes pain and that's all Salem wants. She almost laughs when she notices the beads of sweat rolling down Ruby's blood and dust streaked face -a sign she was really _feeling_ it. Oh yes, that was just right.

It finally stops moving - _finally-_ and Ruby struggles to pull enough oxygen into her lungs. She tries to quiet the whimpers that attempt to rattle free, to choke down the tears so the Witch won't see her cry. Her bleary silver eyes cut between Salem and Crescent Rose as it still hangs in the air wrapped up in a web of shadows. Salem follows her eyes, mentally connecting the dots, and finds herself happening upon a wonderful -that is horrible- idea. The darkness in her begins to pull on the strands wrapped around the scythe, pulling them tight...tighter... _tighter_.

Ruby feels her heart sinking through her like a molten weight as she hears groaning steel, a noise she has rarely heard but simply can't mistake. With helpless horror she watches as the blade of her scythe begins to bow and the handle slowly warps out of shape. The low groan pitches into a high whine, and then it gives.

Crescent Rose fractures into pieces.

Ruby's thoughts start screaming through the aether as she breathlessly gapes, just noise upon noise resounding with a desperate hope that someone will hear and respond.

"You have caused me so much trouble." Salem hums, sounding only a little exasperated as she rhythmically shakes her head. "So. _Much_. _**Pain**_." and she punctuates each word with a flex of her other hand, hoping against hope the little girl will scream again. "Still, I'm absolutely _delighted_ that you're here and that we could have this time together."

Tears are rolling hot down Ruby's face, her side throbbing so bad she wants to bite her tongue, so bad she feels like shattering.

"Because, truth is, I've been waiting for this for quite a while now. I've been waiting _oh so patiently_ to finally meet you in person, so I can return all the misery you've given me. But there's a small problem," she waits, making sure Ruby is looking her in the eye and can see the nasty turn her grin has taken. "I can't decide where to _start_."

Salem twists her hand particularly hard and Ruby's head snaps back, her scream caught behind a clenched jaw.

_Ruby! Ruby, I hear you, we're on our way!_

And Ruby receives the response loud and crystal clear, like rain in the desert and just as welcome. _Keep talking. Please, just keep talking to me._ Because if she can keep Weiss' voice in her head she'll be all right.

 _Hold on, Ruby, I can feel you, we're close -just_ _ **hold on**_.

"Though I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it? I could do as I please, take all the time I want." Salem steps closer, stopping once she's looming over the girl, the fragments of Crescent Rose orbiting around her like broken stars and space junk. "Now, admittedly, I was a little concerned when I saw what you did to Jabberwocky, but then I realized that was just a fluke, wasn't it? You can't really _use_ your powers, can you? You're barely half the huntress your mother was so how could you?" and for a few seconds Salem waits, watching, as if expecting an answer. Then she shrugs. "Then again, why take the chance? I would much prefer to take your eyes _last_ , but the contrary still suits me -after all,"

_Please hurry_

_**Hang on, Ruby** _

"The only thing worse than the fear of what you see is the fear of what you _don't_."

Her heart shoots into her throat, Ruby's pulse pounding faster and harder as she feels herself lifted up. Before she realizes it her and the Witch are face to face, too damn close for comfort, and she feels Salem's icy breath on her blood and sweat smudged cheeks. She can't stop herself from panting, little whimpers rattling through her tightened throat. Her skin crawls with chilled disgust as Salem puts her hands on her, nails scratching as she cups Ruby's cheeks with a strangely gentle pressure.

"Now how should I do it?" Salem moves Ruby's head a little to the left, a little to the right, as if looking for the perfect angle. "By hand is usually the most satisfying, but it's _awfully_ messy." Then, for the briefest second, a strange sadness flickers over Salem's expression, the redness of her eyes fading just a little. "But I'm an awful mess myself, aren't I?" and it comes out as almost a whisper, just barely there, then it's gone. " _Or_ ," and she's back to all teeth and hate, one hand sliding away from Ruby's face to reach above her and pluck a steel shard of Crescent Rose out of the pitch mire, "we could do it _this way_."

Ruby doesn't even feel the pain in her side any longer, or the awful creeping in her skin. The whole world has collapsed around the metallic glint in Salem's hand drawing ever closer to her face, and the rapid surges of her chest as she struggles to breathe. The Witch's other hand tightens to the line of her jaw to keep her still, claws digging deeper, a pinch of pain that ultimately goes unnoticed as they break the skin. She's almost completely numb as her brain braces for it, partly threatening to black out, but then her focus suddenly centers on the sharp movement of the air around her. It's moving fast and icy cold, and in an instant it begins to howl through the passage. Ruby's so fixated on the sounds that she doesn't process Salem lifting her head and snarling in disgust.

The darkness is rent by a vicious bar of cold, immaculate light that reaches from the far end of the passage and crashes into Salem's shoulder as solidly as stone, there is a painful crunch of its impact with her body. She's thrown to the floor, the same shoulder crushed against the stone, and the mass of shadowy tendrils collapses with a wet _splat_. When Ruby drops to the ground she's only partly aware as her brain is still struggling. When her sense of feeling comes surging back, reminding her of the still livid pain in her side, she stiffens up on herself and rolls over. All the while everything seems to scatter around her, just shrapnel and mess and noise and gods make it stop.

The corporeal light had emerged from Weiss' glyph, the Winter Maiden having summoned it quicker than ever before once Blake was able to certainly discern Salem through the dark distance between them all. The tunnel continues to glow in the wake of the magic, whatever moisture in the air solidified and capturing the flickering remnants of energy. Weiss can see the Witch is still moving, standing up, and immediately reacts. With ever perfect form Weiss launches herself along the length of the corridor, the air whipping and roaring around her as she moves in a flawless line towards Salem, Myrtenaster raised and steady. The others try their best to keep up.

Salem isn't ready, but she's slow to discover that as the potency of the Winter Maiden's aura runs her through, the tip of the girl's blade only inches behind. She's able to catch the spike of steel a breath away from its intended mark, both fists closed around the weapon as the momentum behind it pushes and pushes and pushes. The two crash into the junction of a stalactite and stalagmite, the formation of stone shuddering with bits of itself fracturing away with the impact. They resist each other, neither able to gain significant ground before its just snatched away. Weiss can tell Salem is favoring one arm, the shoulder joint of the other likely crushed, and redoubles her efforts to push through. When it gets to be too much Salem all but throws her aside, setting her off balance, but she knows the young huntress will surely double back. Just as she raises her maimed hand to retaliate, she feels the pinching pressure of a silk ribbon snapping tight around her wrist, and her burning eyes cut over her shoulder to see a shadowy Faunus staring right back with amber irises laced with scarlet fractals.

Before Salem can react she realizes she can't move her other hand, looking to see the shimmering glyph spinning around her wrist, and in her peripherals she can make out the potent pale glow of the Winter Maiden's eyes.

"Hold fast, girls," Glynda steps around Blake. Her riding crop is glowing dimly in her clenched fist, the knuckles whitened from her tight grip. It's taking everything she's got to ignore the too familiar bodies lying on the floor.

"Kill the bitch!" Yang shouts. She's kneeling on the floor, Ruby in her arms and tucked against her, fury and pain painting her face along with the blood and dust and sweat.

"You should listen to her, Glynda. Or, as the case may be, you should try." Salem chuckles. "To be perfectly honest I'm not entirely sure that's possible at this point. Regardless, whatever you intend to do, you'd best do it fast as the only reason the lot of you aren't _ashes_ is because I find this amusing."

The faint light around the riding crop waxes, almost concealing the object from sight completely in a nova of color. Glynda won't try to kill her, though a part of her honestly wants to - _Gods_ , does it. But the seemingly less sane of part of her is convinced she needs to try and rescue her sister. However, the inherent risk in attempting to do so is high enough to pacify her vindictive pragmatist side. She wipes beneath her nose and spits out a bit of blood, and then her eyes begin to glow, her irises a bright jade, and her pupils flash violet. Fractals of similar colors appear and hang in the air for just a moment before drawing steadily towards her, flickering until they form a ring around Glynda's head like a crown.

Only now does Salem fully realize what's happening -more so the darkness does- and her pitch and blood eyes widen with horror. The shocks of black veins in her face throb and thicken in the instant before a powerful flame blossoms to life in one hand and grabs the silken tether that binds the wrist. The incredible heat devours the threads and she pulls herself free, quickly following up with a blade like wave of black magic to force the Faunus away. She'll unleash a second at Weiss, expecting her concentration to be broken and the glyph to fade; the shimmering symbol sputters and slows its spinning and that's enough for Salem to break it with a pulse of her own magic. She turns to advance on Glynda, only to be met with half a dozen Faunus clones. They swarm the Witch as Weiss readies another glyph, the heiress releasing a white and howling squall from the glowing symbol that hangs in the air. The magic pitches, filling the entire passage with a bone deep chill as ice begins to form around Salem and the host of clones, locking the lot of them in place.

"Step back," Glynda demands, her voice carrying a strange, alien vibration. The spell is ready, and she's mentally braced to execute it. She raises both hands, palms outward with the crop lying horizontally across them.

Salem feels the energy coming towards her and raises her defenses, a crimson seal forming in front of her that crackles and shakes in resistance. It doesn't take long for the emblem to falter, the scarlet light being overwhelmed by shades of green and purple. Salem releases a defiant shriek before her seal collapses and Glynda's spell takes hold of her. The darkness within her lurches, twisting on itself as agony rends its senses. It can feel itself being pulled on, more like wrenched loose like a stubborn, rotting tooth. The long since settled threads of its connection to Salem are beginning to burn and thin and oh gods does it hurt.

Glynda steadily begins to pull her hands away from each other, but as the girls watch they can see that gaining the slightest inch takes considerable effort on Glynda's part. More sticky ichor is starting to spill from Salem's eyes and mouth, she starts to sputter on it, but now its coming from her ears and fingertips as well and it's running thick. It spills over and coats the ice, almost absorbed by it until it becomes too much and starts pooling on the floor. Glynda pulls harder, her hands separating by more than a full inch when Salem screams again, her voice crackling with pain. The darkness is spreading across her skin, the veins having swelled and blended together to form patches that had started to grow down one side of her body. More slime is oozing out, visibly pulled by the force of Glynda's magic as her hands pull farther apart.

For the briefest instant, before the spell resolves and the bond is broken, the darkness takes a humanoid shape complete with a face and eyes like solidified blood and then collapses to floor. It disappears into the stone.

The imposing presence that once choked the tunnel dissipates, the air a little lighter, and the light of Glynda's spell fades and she returns to herself. She wavers on her feet, almost toppling to her knees but hunching over instead. To her, the world is spinning and feels like someone stood her on her head, she takes off her glasses, thinking that being unable to focus will keep her from throwing up.

The girls stand still, looking at each other with equal curious uncertainty, though Yang is decidedly more uncertain than curious as she continues to hold on to her sister. All this time she's been caught between shielding Ruby from any potential blow back from the hot mess that she can only partly believe just happened, and getting some sort of response from her. Her eyes haven't even opened yet, screwed shut in pain this whole time, and Yang just doesn't know what to do.

"We have to go," Yang manages to say, the worry showing in her voice and the way it breaks a little. "She can't stay here,"

"Yes, Miss Xiaolong," Glynda speaks up as she straightens, only to hunch again with a dry heave. "We'll be leaving shortly. Could," she has to take a breath, still tapped from the spell. "Could one of you check them?"

Weiss and Blake look at each other, and then they look at Salem still trapped in the ice, body limp in its frigid embrace. And then there was...

"I'll check her." Blake nods once, and then produces a clone.

Weiss simply nods, warily stepping around the ice to where Ozpin lays.

Glynda will try to watch them both, having put her glasses back on once the nausea mostly passes. She's surprised when Blake eventually turns to her, looking noticeably shocked to say that the clone had found Salem to still have a pulse.

"Professor!"

Glynda doesn't need an explanation. Her instincts are enough to make her move her feet and force uneasy strides to where Weiss crouches on the floor. The younger huntress moves aside to keep from being shouldered out of the way. Glynda winces, mentally cursing to herself when her knees hit hard stone with enough force to hurt, but she pushes through it all the same. Looking down at Ozpin she can see his eyes open, though they're dimmer than she remembers. She sees his hands fisted over his stomach, fingers tightly laced together and streaked with thick ribbons of blood. He blinks slowly, the only concrete evidence she has to think he's still alive.

"Jarreth,"

Honey colored irises slide behind parted lids and look up at her. His lips move sluggishly, barely a breath getting between them, but it's enough to beckon Glynda to bend down so she might hear. She can't understand, it's just too little and too quiet; she can feel herself threatening to start shaking -gods, why can't she understand him? She chances to move him, sitting him up and propping him against her shoulder. Maybe with him closer she could pick out _something_.

"...A...ane.." he takes a breath, rattling, wet sounding, "...cane..."

She thinks for a second, her brow knitting. "Your cane? Yes, it's safe. It's at the manor."

Ozpin seems to sigh with relief and sputters at the tail end of it. He tries speaking again but just can't make the words come. Instead he loosens his hands, one of them pressing a bloody hand print into Glynda's shirt as it rests on her shoulder.

_I'm sorry, Glynda, but I don't have much time. You have my cane?_

"Yes." she answers quietly, her throat beginning to tighten. She knows where this conversation is going and she hates it.

_Good, see that you keep it, won't you? As long as you have it, this doesn't have to get any worse._

"I don't understand."

_I know, and that -like countless other things- is my fault. I should have told you everything, it was the least I could have done considering everything I asked of you._

"At least tell me why your cane is so damn important," and she sounds bitter, so very bitter.

 _It's the key to everything,_ there's a mental laugh in the aether between them, _namely the vault in my office. Though, I would appreciate it if you kept the two as far from each other as possible._

"That...that doesn't help me at all," she shakes her head.

The vibrations quiet for a moment, the connection beginning to wane. _I'm sorry I asked so much of you. So much of everyone. It was wrong of me._

"We all agreed to it, Jarreth, that's our own fault. And we wouldn't have done as much if we didn't believe in you."

 _That was more than I deserved from any of you._ Another strain of quiet, a longer one. The thread thins further. _I'm sorry, Glynda...but my time is finally over. I'm tired._

"I know." her hand cards into his hair, uncharacteristically tender. "Did you at least do me the courtesy of leaving something for me to follow, you ass of a man?"

_Notebook...somewhere. I think. Maybe. So long ago...I don't know...Salem?_

"She's alive, but I don't know much more than that."

He sighs again with a little, pitiful hum. _Good friend, Glynda...you...best friend._

"You too, Jarreth. So were you." she kisses his forehead after a moment, likely the only such token of affection she's ever given anyone. "But," now she sniffles, choking the tears down, "admittedly, I hate you a great deal right now."

_Fair enough._

And then, just like that, the link is broken.

 

 

 

Author's Note: Well...this marks the end of the first act. What a ride, huh? Now, some notes about the second act; I mean for it to be much more character driven -that is the plot will more so focus on character interactions versus characters reacting to events. Also, the second act will be more Team JNPR's story, and team RWBY -while still part of the story- will be taking a substantial back seat. So all you JNPR lovers that have been so patient, your time has come.

Also, this marks the beginning of the submission period for Twenty Questions! If you have a question in regards to the story, or even a question for me personally, feel free to send them my way via private message or comment on the fic, just be sure to let me know that it's for the video and not just a general question. And you can send in as many questions as you like and I'll pick the most interesting ones. The submission period will end ONE WEEK from the date of this chapter being uploaded, so you've got a little time to think of something to ask me. It can literally be anything (use good sense folks) and I'll be more than happy to answer most of them.

God only knows when Act Two will begin, so that is easily the only question I won't answer. Thanks everyone for the support and patience, and I hope to hear from you soon.

 


	42. Chapter Forty-One

It's still snowing in Vale, but the wind no longer howls which means the front will likely break after another day or so.

Emerald turns up the collar of her pilfered coat as she makes her way across frigid asphalt, the rumble of freight trucks standing toe to toe with the whistling wind. She spies the brilliant glow of a neon sign through the grayness of the snow, her stomach growling a little at the thought of a hot meal. She had a few Lien left, and even if she didn't, she wasn't of the mind of going hungry today. Tucking the jacket a little closer to her frame she quickens her steps.

Once inside she shakes herself clean of wet, white powder and tucks her chin, averting her gaze and seating herself so she could keep an eye on the only door in the place. Dishes and voices clatter around her, the chef's shouting in the kitchen and she can mark the rhythmic click of heels as a waitress comes down the aisle of booths to her table. Emerald looks up into the older woman's face, a cat Faunus of some kind with big silvery ears that are tufted in black at the tips and the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen.

"What can I get for you, hon?"

Emerald clears her throat, turning on her most charming but exhausted smile -gotta sell herself as the poor, starving waif she probably looks like. "I'm expecting to meet someone soon, so what's ready?"

"This is a truck stop," she chuckles, "everything's ready."

"Is there a way I could get a little bit of everything, then?"

"Sure thing, and I'll be right back with some coffee for you. You look like you need it."

Emerald just offers her thanks in the form of a silent nod and then relaxes back into the cushion of her seat with a shrug once the waitress is gone. She'll let static settle in her head, leaving herself distracted until the waitress comes back with coffee and she gives another grateful nod before reaching for the sugar at the far end of the table. It isn't until she's had a couple of soothing, warming sips that she delves into her coat for her scroll. She taps the screen as she takes another mouthful, her nose wrinkling at the lingering bitterness while her eyes scan through the few text messages she had sent out and received in the last few hours. The last one was from nearly an hour ago, a reply to her initial contact to alert Cinder to her return to Vale, saying that Neo was coming to meet her. Emerald never thought herself as the sort to need an escort, but she lets the thought pass in and out of her head with another quiet sigh.

_What are you doing here, anyway?_

Her brow furrows a little, the doubt just a whisper but still ringing in her head.

_You should have just kept running, kept running until you found a place where no one knows you. It would've been easy._

Easy, yeah, probably, but nothing's really easy when you're a thief that somehow manages to keep a heart too big for her own good. Besides, saying no to Cinder was always hard, even before she started getting five across the eyes for it. It's been hard since she found sympathy for her, knowing Cinder had been hurt by people just as much as herself, in some cases worse, and thought that -you know- this is how hurt people love one another.

_You only hurt the ones you love. And Cinder must love the living hell out of you._

She sniffs, feeling the bitter sarcasm of her own thoughts radiating like an ache in her bones. She'll swallow it down when her food comes, deciding to distract herself with that as she shovels it down. Her meal is half finished when she feels a sharp prickling along her spine, a sensation she immediately recognizes, and she lifts only her eyes to see a petite woman stroll through the diner's swinging glass door.

Neo sits herself, waving on the waitress with a shake of her head and a strangely courteous smile, and for several minutes she slouches in the booth across from Emerald, just looking at her. Then she starts signing.

"I'm almost finished." Emerald says when her hand stills. "How's Cinder doing?" and she watches Neo inch her shoulders -a neutral sort of answer. "But she'll be okay?"

Neo just nods.

"And still nothing from Mercury?" She expects her fellow Guardian to shake her head, which she does, and accepts it. When Neo keeps signing she watches, her brow quirking. "What do you mean we're being watched?"

Neo makes an obvious bird shape with her hands and then mimics the gesture of tipping a glass to her mouth.

"The old drunk? _Still_? Gods above," Emerald rolls her eyes. "So you've seen him in the neighborhood recently? Great. Okay, I'll hurry up."

She half chokes down the last few mouthfuls, knowing Neo's serious as her bicolored eyes start fixing exclusively on her in a pointed way. They get up from the table at the same time, but Emerald lingers long enough to put the tab and tip on the table -she knows Neo would snatch it up given the chance. The two leave the diner and disappear into the snow.

 

_(II)_

Yang knows Ruby isn't okay in spite of how distracted and tired she is. Her baby sister hasn't been okay since they stepped back through the mirror -well, if Yang wanted to be honest with herself, she hasn't been okay since Beacon fell over, but that's another thing. The way Ruby's been in and out of sleep is the most obvious sign; she's tucked tight to Yang's side in the infirmary bed, the brawler's intact arm curled around her tensed frame, and every so often she'll feel Ruby jump. It's dreams, Yang thinks, more so knows because she still has dreams of her own. And if that's the case, it's likely to be a long while before Ruby has a decent night's sleep again. Just like after Summer died.

Yang doesn't sleep much either and it isn't just because of the worry for her sister. Ruby would be all right, at least according to the chief medic who patched her up, but she was still in enough pain to make her sweat a little and that kept Yang wary. She stays awake because she is her own kind of anxious. She's still a little wound up from the beating she took in Salem's fortress, her skin is too raw and she's a little shocked that she's been able to keep still with Ruby touching her for so long. Aside from that there's the heavy energy of the infirmary itself, you didn't really need a knife to get through it, but you'd consider it before you even walked in. A chunk of the weight is made up of Tag's magic, a steady and strong heartbeat of static that's been going nonstop for hours. She's in the only other bed, sitting cross-legged at the foot of it like she's meditating, eyes glowing and tail slowly swinging like a metronome over the edge of the bed. Yang has to remind herself every so often that the Faunus has Pyrrha Nikos' bare and still dirty feet in her lap, the magic she's producing flowing into the fallen champion. Yang just shakes her head, quietly floored at the fact that she and Ruby are sharing a room with a dead woman. Well...you know.

Then there's Blake in her head. Not just Blake, actually, but it's mostly the Summer Maiden's voice that moves through her skull in familiar vibrations. It's the only soothing thing right now despite what she's hearing.

Once everything settled down and the last of the Grimm were chased off, Glynda locked herself up with Winter, Daisy, Maab, Weiss and Blake -were Tag not otherwise occupied she would've been lassoed in too- for a seemingly all important sit down and not a one of them had come out yet. Yang assumed they were trying to suss out what to do now, which was partly true. They were also intending to report to General Ironwood once a consensus was reached -something far easier said than done, judging by how long it was taking. Little by little Blake has been feeding her cliff's notes about the conversation through their link, some of it actually translating as the voices of others and not just Blake parroting what she hears. Currently Yang believes Glynda is talking, when suddenly the echoes of her voice are sharply cut off by the keening feedback rattling between her ears.

 _The hell was that?_ she tries.

 _Weiss is reading Glynda the riot act._ comes a quietly amused reply.

 _**What** _ _?_

_Oh yeah, I wish you could see it. She's using her CEO of the Schnee Dust Company voice._

_What about?_

_Glynda thinks we should go to Atlas, let them have a look at Pyrrha, and she isn't having it._

_...Why not?_

_Think about it, in fact, think about Penny. What do you think would happen to Pyrrha if the military got a hold of her?_

_...Oh. Whoa. You might be onto something. That's kind of terrifying._

_It is. But Weiss suggested they give up Salem instead and Glynda got defensive all of a sudden, so Weiss is calling her out on it._

_I bet. But, in Goodwitch's defense, there's nothing visibly wrong with Salem. Pyrrha's not that lucky._

_But that isn't the point, Yang. You know it isn't._

_No, I get it. Besides, Tag should have a chance to do what she can before we get outside help, but that's just me._

_I agree with you, and I'm sure Weiss would too. I'll be sure to bring that up._

The link goes mostly quiet, the vibrations back to little echoes that don't make much sense as the conversations on the other end continue. She loses track of it completely when she feels Ruby jerk against her side again, this time with a little squeak followed by panting whimpers.

"Hey, squirt," she chances softly, hoping she'll get Ruby's attention. "Hey, you're okay," and it absolutely destroys her to see her little sister so afraid when she finally lifts her uneasy gaze to meet hers. "Just a bad dream, you're safe."

"D-did I wake you up?" her throat sounds tight, her mouth dry.

"Nah, wasn't sleeping, don't worry," she smiles down at her, trying not to let the painful clench of her heart show. "How are you feeling?"

Ruby drops her head back to Yang's chest, nuzzling closer still. "Still hurts."

"Too much to sleep?"

"...I think so." She knows so, but she doesn't want to seem weak -too much like a kid.

"Okay." Yang shifts a little. "Here's what we'll do: I need to stretch my legs and tap a kidney, on my way out I'll get the medic to check you over again and see if he can give you more medicine for the pain. After that," she digs into her pocket and pulls out her scroll, "once he's done you should try playing a game for a while, maybe it'll distract you enough to help you get back to sleep." Because she read an article about a study on how playing simple puzzle games and the like can help mitigate some post-trauma symptoms.

"...Okay." she doesn't want Yang to leave, she still feels too vulnerable, but she doesn't want to sound selfish either.

"I'll hurry back, I promise." Yang carefully navigates out of the bed, lingering long enough to tuck the blanket back around her and kiss her sweaty forehead. Just as promised she'll tap the chief medic on the shoulder to wake him up and update him on Ruby before stepping out.

She stretches with both arms over her head as she starts down the corridor towards the nearest toilet which was close to the commissary. She smells coffee on her way and that perks her interest. Business done she ducks into the mess hall, a little surprised to see Jaune at the counter looking to be fixing his own mug of something hot. She's still not used to seeing him without his hoodie, but the bruises on his face make him familiar again. She'll intentionally bump him with her elbow to get his attention and then greets him with a restrained grin.

"Hey, Yang," he responds after swallowing a yawn. "How's Ruby?"

"Rough." she just nods, grabbing a mug and filling it up from the heated urn. "You finally get the red scare to go to bed?"

"Huh? Oh," he chuckles breathily, "kind of. She's lying down at the very least."

Yang laughs a little too, then shakes her head as she thinks about earlier. Nora had posted herself on the infirmary floor beside Pyrrha's bed like a vigilant sentry once her wounds had been treated, leaving her hands and neck bandaged up to cover the series of stitches. After maybe an hour her head started to bob with exhaustion and Jaune tried to convince her to get some rest. She simply refused, didn't even speak up, just ignored him and stayed put. He kept trying, softly as not to break Tag's focus, but it still did nothing. Finally Ren -visibly tapped as well- gave it a shot, going so far as to take her by the arm to convince her to stand. Yang still couldn't believe her reaction; the ginger huntress jerked out of his grip with a defiant scowl, an almost genuine meanness she had never seen on her before. Ren and Jaune had been equally shocked. After a moment it passed, and Ren knelt down in front of her, speaking softly and begging until she finally relented.

Yang could understand her not wanting to leave Pyrrha, she really could. Hell, she was doing the same with Ruby so she didn't have room to pass judgment otherwise.

She shakes her head again. "I can't imagine what you guys are going through, but I feel for you. If there's anything I can do,"

"Th-thanks, I appreciate it." he answers almost too quickly. Part of him wishes there was something she could do -to what end he had no way of knowing- but what could any of them do? So many impossible things had happened just in the last twelve hours, things no one had experienced before. Where were they supposed to even start? He takes a too big gulp of his coffee, almost choking before he forces it down. "I better get back."

"If you can hold your horses a second I'll walk with you, I'm headed that way." Yang's actually surprised when he complies, knowing he's anxious. Once her coffee is the way she likes it, she'll ask the attendant for a bottle of water to take with her, then the two young hunters walk out of the commissary shoulder to shoulder.

"Blake and Weiss still in that meeting-thing-whatever?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Yang nods. "No offense, but I'm only a little surprised you didn't get swept into that too."

"Why?" he's genuinely curious.

"Well, you're Team Leader."

"So's Ruby,"

"Yeah, but she's not up for that right now. Still, Blake's been feeding me stuff -our brain radio, you know- and you should be there. Some of it's about Pyrrha and that's your concern too."

"Probably why I wasn't invited. My opinion is biased."

Yang blinks, surprised by the notion she hadn't considered before. "Good point."

Jaune's quiet a moment, then takes a deep, tired breath. "Glynda's going to try and take her, isn't she?"

"Not in so many words, but I think so." no point in lying. "She wants to take Pyrrha to Atlas so their squints can look her over."

He thinks for a moment. "...We'd never see her again."

"That's what we're worried about. But don't get your briefs in a bunch over it, Weiss and Blake are going to bat for her. If all else fails...well, we'll figure something out. We all care about her, and I think we're a bit suspicious of Glynda ourselves."

"Thank you." and his gratitude is genuine, but he feels so tired he's not sure if it's translating too well. At this rate if he does fall asleep he'll lose a day or two to it.

Yang smiles. "We may still be a bunch a kids, but us kids need to stick together." and she gives him a little elbow again, pleasantly surprised when he smiles back.

Back in the infirmary, mostly nothing has changed. The chief medic is back at his station and lets Yang know he gave Ruby something to help her relax and to curb the pain, and Ruby looks less tense as she's propped up on a pillow with her sister's scroll in her hands, her eyelids drifting lazily as sleep threatens. Yang carefully navigates back into bed with her, passing her the bottle of water on the chance that she wants it. She snuggles up to her big sister much like before, refusing to fight to stay awake any longer and nods off almost immediately.

Jaune gets a little homesick as he watches them, feeling like he could use a big sister right now because he can't help but feel so small. He'll shake his head eventually and go back to his place beside Pyrrha's bed, propped against the wall as he sips his coffee. And he's simply there, like he has been all night, watching and waiting. And thinking.

He contemplates Tag for a moment, briefly mesmerized by her verdant glow and the strange vibration it stirs just beneath his skin. Somewhere along the line he makes note of the almost too slow rise and fall of her chest, and then becomes aware that Pyrrha's cadence of breath matches the Spring Maiden's exactly. But after that realization he can't pull his eyes away from Pyrrha, he couldn't even if he wanted to.

He has to try to see her beneath the traces of dirt and blood still on her pale face -though some of the color is coming back- and to make out anything familiar around the medical wires that have been stuck to her to keep track of her vital signs and to push concentrated oxygen into her lungs. She's still wearing his tattered hoodie beneath the blankets that have been stacked several high because the medic says her body temperature won't reach a normal level on its own -be it from the extreme physical exhaustion or something supernatural they had yet to ascertain. Jaune sucks down the last of his coffee and sets the mug on the floor before he approaches the head of the bed, his eyes still fixed on her. He has to consciously police the notion to touch her.

Her hair is still such a mess, and his brow tightens as he remembers how much of a neat freak she was about it. Pyrrha almost never let her hair down, even when she slept she kept it tied back one way or another. She would be heartbroken when she saw it. That is, if she wakes up. A little voice tells Jaune that she will, after a while, but another voice is telling him not to waste his energy with hoping and that any minute now he was going to realize none of this was actually happening and he would be the one waking up. He crosses his arms with a shrug, his train of thought partially derailed with memories, his brain trying its damnedest to link the past with the present in an attempt to make all this feel more real. Her hair is the same, though noticeably shorter, that much is certain. Her frame is tall and strong like he remembers, but he had also picked up on an almost unhealthy thinness to her. Had the Grimm not allowed her to eat? Did she still have to? Was she even huma-

_No, stop it, don't think like that._

Jaune shakes his head. No, best not go there. Certainly not right now. Though a part of him simply can't help it, and makes his eyes linger on the streaks of jet black that tattoo her face and arc down along the column of her throat. They're all over her and he knows it. But there are scars too, a couple he can name because he was there. It shook him the first time he spied the thin pink line on her neck, further proof that the creature he encountered in Caissa and Pyrrha were one in the same since he put that mark there himself. There's another, rougher scar on the edge of her eye, and he recalls when his mother hit her with his shield by the lake. Then there's the angry red split on her top lip -Nora admitted to that one, cried about it.

Jaune swallows a sudden thickness in his throat, realizing he'll have a lot to apologize for.

_If she wakes up. If she even remembers._

His heart clenches. He'd never considered _that_ . But he finds a little comfort in something Nora had said before Ren all but dragged her off to bed. _She said my name, I know she did. She still_ _**knew** _ _me_. Now, the more logical -cynical- part of him wants to say she was tired and terrified and just caught up in the mess that happened out there today, but he couldn't listen to that part right now. He had the utmost faith that Nora wouldn't make that sort of mistake. Still, in any case, even if Pyrrha's memory is completely gone, Jaune swore he would be here for her. They would all be here.

Eventually he shuffles back to his place against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor again as he feels sleep beckoning in spite of the coffee he drank. He'll let it take him this time, let it take the remaining four hours of the night and the first two hour of dawn before a tangible shift in the air around him pulls him back up to awareness.

The room feels a little cooler, the buzzing under his skin having dropped out completely. Once the initial shock of waking passes he looks up. Tag has finally stopped glowing; now she appears asleep, the image reinforced when he realizes her tail has stilled, but then her chest expands fully and suddenly with a deep breath through her nose. Then she stretches, dull pops working up through her spine and shoulders as her hands make an earnest reach for the ceiling, followed by one last crack in her jaw when she yawns. By chance she catches a glimpse of him when her body relaxes, her dim and tired eyes falling on him.

"Oh, you're still here." she tries a little smile, actually glad to have some company. "All night?"

"I think so. Are you okay?"

"I am...tapped, I believe the saying goes." and it shows in her posture, her uncharacteristic slouch. Then her stomach grumbles loudly, one of her hands smoothing over it as she groans. "And _very_ hungry."

Jaune quickly moves to give her room as she unwinds her legs and eases them onto the floor, cringing at the pins and needles feeling buzzing from her knees to her toes. She stumbles a bit, bracing her hand on the wall when she stands perhaps a little too quickly.

"I'll walk with you." Jaune offers, his arms ready to catch her should she lose her balance entirely.

"Don't be silly," Tag straightens on her own, "I'm sure you want to stay with her."

Jaune brows jump, his blue eyes moving from the Maiden to Pyrrha and back again. "W-well, you've done all you can for now, right?"

"I have."

"And she'll be okay?"

"For the time being, yes. She's," she thinks, "stable, yes, she's stable."

"Then me being here doesn't serve much of a purpose. So let me walk with you, besides I'm hungry too."

She doesn't argue, doesn't have the energy to, so she just smiles and nods and thanks him for the courtesy. The walk to the mess hall will be a quiet one, though Tag has questions she prefers to save them for after she's eaten as she simply won't have the presence of mind for a full conversation until then. This feeling is only reinforced when Jaune volunteers to help her at the counter since her mouth just didn't want to form words properly. She laughs through her embarrassment.

"You shouldn't have to hold my hand like this," she's shaking her head as she sits, letting her head rest in her hands for a moment.

"I'm not." Jaune smiles a little himself, taking up his fork as well as his first mouthful of breakfast. "Even if I was, it's the least I could do. I owe you more than I can pay back."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm serious. You've done so much for all of us...for my team and me...and for Pyrrha. This is the least I can do."

Another little chuckle as she pushes at her food with her fork. "I'm just doing what Maidens do. You don't owe me anything, but I appreciate the thought."

He still doesn't feel like that's enough and he'll keep the notion to himself so they can get on with their meal. Not a word passes between them again until some of the glinting awareness returns to Tag's eyes, bringing a clarity to her exhaustion. The Maiden asks about the others, Jaune doing his best to update her in spite of how little he knows for certain. When she asks about Billy, all he can do is shake his head and say he hasn't seen them since yesterday.

"I had no idea it was their intention to kill her." Tag pushes her plate away and then covers her face with her hands. "I mean, it was that way in the beginning, before we knew what we know now...but," her body expands and contracts, "I thought I-"

"I don't blame you. I mean...I get they're your Guardian, but there's only so much you can do, right?"

"I should have known, I should have noticed something,"

"Hey," Jaune's actually surprised when she lifts her head and gives him her full attention. "What's done is done, the important part is you stopped them. At least...that's the important part from where I'm sitting."

Tag sighs again and pushes a hand across her scalp, black bristles bending beneath her fingers. "Thank you, but," she stops to think, her brow furrowing tightly as she all but whispers "but what will it cost me?"

"Hm?"

"It's...well, no, it isn't complicated, just that there's a story attached and I don't feel like telling it right now. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it doesn't have to be my business if you don't want it to be. But can I stand to guess that what happened between you and Billy yesterday is going to have some blow back?"

"I'm not entirely sure what 'blow back' is, but it sounds bad so I'm going to take a chance and say yes."

Jaune feels his heart clench, a part of him hating the idea of her facing negative consequences for helping Pyrrha. "Well...whatever comes out of it...just let me know if there's anything I can do."

The Faunus has just enough time to sadly smile at him before a pair of footsteps comes into the room coupled with quiet conversation between the Summer and Winter Maidens. Conversation they drop almost reflexively when they realize the commissary isn't entirely empty. Though they know they're among friends, it's just as well as Weiss excuses herself to quickly make her way around the only occupied table and hug Tag about the neck. The older Faunus smiles and reciprocates as best she can while remaining in her seat, so nice to have physical contact with someone that isn't in some sort of crisis.

"You look exhausted." Weiss lets herself smile just a touch, letting Tag hold her hand for a moment.

"I know, but so do you. Both of you." Tag nods to the younger Faunus in the room. "Are you all right?"

"We're fine, we just wanted to look in on Yang and Ruby," Blake answers as she rubs the back of her neck, then her amber eyes settle on Jaune. "And to give you a heads up."

"Hm? What is it?" he swallows the wad of food he had pocketed in his cheek. "Aunt Glynda?"

Blake opens her mouth to respond, only to be stopped by an audible, metallic _thump_ from down the corridor, followed by a punctuated curse. "Yeah." she finishes.

"Our meeting didn't go the way she wanted so she's probably on her way to convince you to side with her." Weiss adds.

"Yang mentioned what the meeting was about," he nods with a shrug. "But I don't see what my approval would change."

"Likely, it would let her see her actions as morally gray instead of outright wrong." Now Weiss is scowling, as minor as it seems the expression is still vicious. "But if all of us say no,"

Jaune just nods, knowing where her thought is going, or at least he thinks he does.

"Just don't let her bully you." Blake adds with a sense of finality as she starts out of her space towards the counter. She wants tea and then she wants to sleep, also she can hear the hurried rhythm of heels down the hallway getting closer. Weiss will follow her after giving Tag one last pat on the shoulder and a concerned "Get some sleep," as she steps away.

Jaune can almost feel it when Glynda steps into the room, never mind the weight of her footsteps that snatch up his attention like a bear trap. He senses the static of her presence, big and heavy and abrasive, moving around him from one shoulder to the other until she comes into his field of vision. He'll keep his eyes on his plate even as she turns to face him, her arms tucked behind her as she dips her chin to look down the hard line of her nose.

"Jaune," she starts and then waits, expecting a reaction. When none comes she continues. "I'd like to speak to you."

He manages to lift his head, consciously making an effort to keep his expression neutral if not expressly tired. "Have a seat, there's room."

"Privately." and her jade eyes slide to settle on Tag, who is already easing up from her seat. Glynda waits patiently until the Maiden's have gone before pulling out a chair and sitting across the table from her nephew. She's looking directly at him again, her gaze sharp from just beneath the rim of her glasses.

When the quiet goes too long and her attention becomes to heavy he clears his throat. "S-sorry for whatever I broke this time. I forgot."

Her brows flicker briefly, brief confusion crossing her face before it settles. "Quite all right. Accidents happen." Because her heel magically breaking out from under her could most certainly be classified as an accident.

He nods, partly grateful. "Is this about Salem?" he feels the compulsion to play dumb, like the less she thinks he knows the less likely she is to try and pull the wool over his eyes somehow.

"Not entirely, no."

"How is she?"

"Alive. She'll need surgery -her shoulder was shattered- but otherwise she seems...perfectly fine." and she sounds surprised to say that last part. "Whatever possessed her has been completely removed...or so it would seem."

"You're sure?"

She nods once. "I'm Springborn, that allows me a sensitivity to the presence of sentient entities, and I haven't found any traces of it on her." then she nods again as if to assure herself. "Speaking of which, has there been any change in Miss Nikos' condition?"

"Tag didn't have a chance to tell me much, but for now she's stable." he pauses, "And less gray."

"Good. Jaune," she adjusts in her seat, propping her elbows on the table. "You know Miss Nikos will need better treatment than what the medics on the ship can offer, don't you?"

"She's getting that. Tag is handling it."

"How are you so sure?"

"It's only been a few hours, Tag's exhausted, give her a chance." His eyes thin on her and he can feel the muscles in his jaw tightening. "There's nothing a doctor can do that Tag can't. Tell me I'm wrong."

And she hates it because she really can't. The Spring Maiden's abilities have and always would trump any medical professional Remnant could produce. And with the unique and magical nature of the situation, she is quite literally the best chance they have.

"Point taken," she sounds loathed to say. "However...would you be willing to hear me out before you pass judgment?"

He knows what she's going to offer him and it's turning his stomach sour. Still, he does his best to look relaxed, unassuming. Jaune tries to sell it a little harder by crossing his arms and appearing to sulk in his seat. "Okay."

Glynda takes a breath, as if preparing to deliver something a long while rehearsed. "The fact of the matter is that we don't really understand much of anything about Miss Nikos' condition, and that puts her, as well as the rest of us, at considerable risk. I think we should begin gathering information as quickly as possible."

"And how do we do that?"

"General Ironwood has offered whatever resources we need, provided we return with Pyrrha to Atlas and surrender her to their care."

Jaune tenses from head to toe and he feels just...gross. In that second, _surrender_ became a four letter word.

"I think it the best course of action from this point."

He can't help but to scowl now. He's already had enough of this conversation. "You and Ozpin thought it was best to ask Pyrrha to be your weapon. You can understand why I'm...not so ready to agree with you."

"Yes, well," she fumbles, shifting in her seat again. "We've all paid for that mistake, haven't we?"

"No more than Pyrrha has,"

"Ozpin is _dead_." she counters pointedly.

"And how many others has he hurt?" and while he is genuinely curious, he would prefer it if she took the question as rhetorical. He really didn't want to get into that list because he had a sneaking suspicion it was long as the devil's arm. "But we're getting away from the point."

"Indeed."

"I don't care how good Atlas' doctors are, and I don't care if you trust Ironwood because _I don't_ -not after Penny, but the point is it isn't up to either of us."

"Excuse me?"

"Pyrrha should decide what she wants. She deserves that much, and I'm going to do all I can to make sure she gets that."

"Are you serious?" a puff of air leaves her, something resembling a bitter laugh. "Miss Nikos is _comatose_ , she may never regain consciousness for all we know; she _can't say yes or no either way._ "

"And _that_ isn't consent for you to do as you please." his tone is heavy, precise with an unusual strength. Like he means it. And it visibly shocks her. "Now _I_ think it's best we let Tag do whatever she can before we take the next step. She spent the whole night just trying to keep her alive, she's going to need more time to learn anything else."

Glynda's eyes thin dangerously, he can see the muscles in her jaw clenching like she's resisting to say something awful. She's actually biting her tongue.

Jaune eventually shakes his head, his face still dark and lined with quiet anger and fatigue. "This...all of this is Ozpin's mess, and he asked Pyrrha to clean it up. Then, somewhere along the line, we got caught up in it too." and for a moment the two of them hold eye contact, their expressions almost perfectly matched with the added sting of familial resemblance. Jaune then stands up, not breaking his gaze as he leans forward with his palms atop the table. "So we're going to clean it up, and you're going to let us do it _our way_."

At first all she can do is watch him, eyes all but burning holes through him as he turns his back on her and starts to walk. She can feel countless words of every intent brimming in her throat and she wants so badly to just hurl them at her nephew at terminal velocity. But all she allows herself is "You're being foolish."

Jaune pauses, thinks, then half turns until he can meet her eyes. "And you're surprised? Come on, remember who you're talking to." Then out he walks.

 

 

Author's Note:  So begins the second act. Not much of a start, sure, but I have a lot of new setup to lay down before we get into the good stuff. One of the elements I definitely want to focus on in this act is the camaraderie that all these kids have with one another, you know, all the stuff we don't really get to see much of in the show. They're all looking out for and love one another and I want that to come through as plainly as possible. And it looks like Jaune's finally starting to break into his big boy shoes, which is good because he's going to need to act like a team leader to get through what's coming. Thanks for the love and support everyone, and as usual, comments and questions are welcomed and heavily encouraged.

 


	43. Chapter Forty-Two

In a strange way it feels like coming home, as much as it can when you live in a spanning, mostly empty steel warehouse with no insulation and that echoes when the wind rattles the walls. Emerald hasn't been here for more than a year, at least that's what she believes, and has a good feeling that nothing's changed. A few cobwebs catching the light from the ceiling fixtures just proves her point. Most of this has gone untouched, and part of her is grateful for that. As the door slams shut behind her, pushed by a gust of wind, she takes in the towers of crates and containers, some with SDC logos spray painted on the side.

Neo and Emerald make their way around the crates shoulder to shoulder, neither leading or following the other until they shift into single file to ascend the metal stairs that whine under their joined weight. At the top is a platform that acts as the foundation for what under more honest circumstances would have been an office or some other such executive space, but for them it's a makeshift bunk room. Emerald finds the space a lot warmer than she expects, almost immediately shrugging out of her coat and letting it drop beside the door.

Emerald can only lift her eyes so high from the floor, knowing passed a certain vantage her gaze would fall on Cinder's back as the Fall Maiden sits on the edge of her cot. She has to force herself to in the end, mentally flinching at the bright pink scar and its ranking stitch marks that reach from her shoulder to her hip across her bare back. She stares until Cinder turns her head smoothly to look at her, her irises flaring warmly when their eyes meet.

"Were you followed?" the question is smooth, untroubled.

"Don't think so." Emerald replies with the smallest hesitation. Neo is just beside her and she's shaking her head with visible confidence.

"Good." Cinder stands, pulling the blanket with her to cover herself to a degree, and rounds the bed to cross the floor. When she's close enough she opens her arms to Emerald, expectant. "Glad to see you safe."

The crimson-eyed thief certainly doesn't hesitate now, the affection starved part of her clamoring to reciprocate and embrace Cinder. However, as she props her chin on her Maiden's shoulder, the sooty scent of her filling her head, her instincts bristle with suspicion. Cinder's never so ready to dole out niceties like this, not unless she wants something. _Must be an awful big something if she's so ready to touch you so gently._

"I got here as quickly as I could." Emerald forces herself to say as she pulls back, her hands hovering briefly before she convinces herself that the sweetness has passed.

"I'm sure you did." Cinder just nods once, cocking her head with a little smile -selling herself, to be truthful.

Emerald swallows, her thoughts and feelings conflicting like static. "So what happened? Where do we stand now?"

Cinder takes a breath and pulls away, turning and making her way back to the cot where she perches. She sighs, her once pleasant expression washed away on the exhale. "We can't trust Salem any longer, I'm afraid. She all but refused to bring that creature to heel after what happened, not to mention led me to believe she was using it in no small way to police my actions. In turn that leads me to believe she had meant to control me the entire time. I know I don't have to tell _you_ how I feel about _that_ particular idea."

Emerald swallows again, her heart sinking a bit. "...What do we do?"

The smile that cuts across Cinder's mouth is jarring. "We stop her."

Emerald's initial thought is to protest, but then she remembers with a shudder of clarity that she shouldn't. Instead she just rewords it. "You think we can? The three of us? Against _Salem_ ,"

"I _do_. When I spoke to her last she looked like ten miles of bad road, and if we can strike back quickly enough, she won't be at full strength." she nods. "I'm going to teach that old hag a lesson if it's the last thing I do," Cinder's irises flare hotly, "but I need you. I need both of you."

Emerald's tongue is dry like her lips, her whole mouth, but she tries to wet them anyway. There's a desperate part of her screaming in the back of head to run, to just turn and jump out the window if that's what it took to get the hell out of here. Everything about this was bad, everything looked sketch as fuck and she _knows it_. But...

But you don't say no to Cinder Fall.

She takes a deep breath, resigned. "So how are we supposed to pull this off?"

"That's my girl." Cinder nods in approval, and her smile widens a little further, allowing Emerald to catch a glimpse of her tongue gliding across her eyeteeth. "Of course the hardest part will be finding her, and we'll be in her territory so she'll have a natural advantage. However," holding the blanket to her chest she bends down, reaching beneath the cot for a box no bigger in dimension that a large book. "We don't even have to kill her, we just have to weaken her enough for my little trump card."

Obvious curiosity pulls Emerald's features as Cinder passes the small container to her, the Fall Maiden watching and waiting for her Guardian to open it and have a look inside. She only peeks for an instant, no need for a glimpse longer than that. She understands what Cinder means to do.

"I know we were _supposed_ to save those for dealing with the other Maidens, but," Cinder laughs again, a languid, breathy, and smug sound, "after this, once I have what I want, they won't even matter." Then her eyes shift. "How goes the search for Goodwitch?"

Neo signs, the pads of her thumb and index finger a few shrinking millimeters apart. _Close_.

"Perfect."

Emerald swallows again, suddenly feeling so far in over her head.

 

_(II)_

In the infirmary of the other airship, Glynda stares at the only two beds, her jade eyes flitting back and forth behind her glasses. In one of them, Salem seems to sleep peacefully, having yet to move even an inch. In the other, a humanoid shape is framed by an immaculate white sheet. One alive, one stone cold dead, and some awful, spiteful region of her brain is wishing they were switched. Not so much that she wished her sister had died -she had accepted as much so many years ago the notion is hard to drop, but more so that she would have preferred it if Jarreth had lived.

Everything would be easier then. He could have explained everything, he could have told her what to do next, he would have had all the answers she needed. And every so often, there's a blossom of fury and hate directed at him -more so at his remains; there's just so much he should have told her and now it's much too late. _You stupid, **stupid** man. What the hell am I supposed to do now?_ She briefly dwells on his last words, the ones that still faintly echo in her mind -did he actually leave something behind? Was there a collection of notes tucked away somewhere that would guide her through this? If so, where in gods' name would he have put it? Or was he just being a shit as one last middle finger to her for being naive enough to trust him? Leading her on like he had no doubt led on countless others? The Witch just shakes her head, swallowing the bubbling anger down. All of this was still too fresh and abrasive to give it any critical thought.

Then there's Salem.

At a glance it appears she has barely aged over the last near twenty years since she disappeared. At a glance the only real difference is the remaining stark whiteness of her hair. Her complexion had always been pale -only her second most Mistrali trait- but under the Grimm's possession she had been no more warm looking than a corpse. However over the last few hours her natural color was starting to settle back in. There are blanched and faint traces of the once black veins around her eyes, likely down her arms as well, but they might disappear entirely as well. There is no knowing for sure yet.

Glynda doesn't feel anger or frustration, or even a touch of relief that her sister is home and alive. She feels almost nothing at all because Glynda Goodwitch puts things to bed with the intention of them staying there. What was she supposed to feel anyway? She takes a deep breath, holding on to the tightened, outward press of her ribs as she takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. She still hasn't slept and it's starting to catch up with her.

Behind her the infirmary door slides open with a hydraulic hiss, Maab strolling through the opening and nodding to the attending medic as she passes her station. The Faunus has a square of cloth tucked under her arm, taking it in one hand and passing it to Glynda once she stands beside her. She has to get her daughter's attention with a tap on the thigh. "Thought you'd appreciate a clean shirt."

"Ah, thank you, mother." at the moment she had long since forgone her usual button up blouse for a white cotton tank top which has significantly less blood on it. Still she prefers not to be so casual outside of her own home so she takes the folded shirt and puts it on. It folds together like a robe -a common Mistrali style garment, and ties the laces at the side. "I'm surprised you have something that fits me."

"It's Rusty's, that's why it's so tight in the bust." she almost smirks as she looks up at Glynda.

Glynda rolls her eyes. "How are things in the village now?"

"I just got off the radio with the Belladonnas, they've done us the kindness of loading the villagers on a boat, they'll be arriving in a few hours. Cleanup is done, the few Grimm still hanging around have been dealt with," she pauses, crossing her hands together behind her, "Rusty is working on a casket. Mind you, it won't be much, but,"

"Thank him for me." she answer almost too quickly. She doesn't need to or want to hear the rest.

"Would you prefer to bury him here? Back in Vale?"

"I haven't even thought about it." Glynda shakes her head and folds her arms across her stomach, her chin tucked. "I don't even know if he has any family members to contact ." _Because I always had the feeling **I** was his only family. He always had this air of isolation around him that he simply wouldn't explain. Even after he and Salem..._ "What do you think we should do?"

"It's no skin off my nose either way. Remains pass quicker in the jungle even at this time of year. Perhaps Vale would be better if you mean to have a proper funeral."

 _Like the one you never had for Salem. Good thing now, huh?_ "Perhaps. Can't think of anyone who would attend other than myself."

"Your fellow professors not like him much?"

"Quite the contrary." she laughs quietly to herself, just a huff of air and the tiniest smirk. "But it's a sensitive time, I can't begin to imagine the possible dangers of holding a ceremony."

"It could flush your foe out, knowing that some of their competition is out of the way."

"But we're not ready for that." Glynda shakes her head decidedly. "We're just not ready, too much has changed too suddenly and we don't know what to do with it yet."

Maab nods slowly, weighing the logic and finding it sound. "Why not take him back to the manor and put him beside your father?"

 _Papa._ She suddenly misses him more than ever, feeling the gaping emptiness in her heart with such severity that her breath hitches. She swallows it down and levels herself out, there would be time to feel that later. "So long as you don't mind." she gently clears her throat.

"Wouldn't have suggested it if I did." Maab exhales, then leans into casual strides towards Salem's bed. With a little push of aura beneath her heels she hops up, perching on the side of the bed and tucking her feet underneath her small body. Sadness pulls the age lines on her face deeper, eyes thinning as the crows' feet reach further towards her cheeks. She takes her daughter's hand and holds it in both of hers. It's in this moment that she realizes just how much she missed Salem, something she refused to do in the years she was gone simply because she was quick to accept her dead. Couldn't be a powerful Witch with grief pulling you down. "I don't sense her aura."

"Neither do I. Miss Nikos is exhibiting the same symptom, or so I've heard."

Maab nods, momentarily wordless. Then "So was it the Mother Grimm inside of Salem?"

"Possibly. It never fully manifested after my seal resolved and I only had but a second. All I could make out was a basic shape...and its eyes."

"What were they like?"

"Solid red. Dark. I don't really have more words than that."

"Hmm."

"What...remind you of something?"

"I'm still thinking." she's begun to stroke the back of Salem's hand with her thumbs, something she hasn't done in so very long. Longer than she's been gone. "Have you spoken to Ruby yet about what happened? She was there when Jarreth was killed, correct?"

"Yes, but I just wanted to give her a little more time."

"Understandable, but who knows how long you have before her memory starts to skew? I've seen the aftermath of enough battles to know how fragile the mind can be even minutes after the chaos ends. I know she's young and she's been through a lot, but whatever she can tell us could be crucial."

"I know. I'll get to it soon." but for a moment more she just stands and watches her mother, fingers drumming rhythmically and quietly against her biceps. When she no longer feels comfortable enough to stay, she leaves without a word.

With obvious purpose she'll leave one airship and cross the beach to reach the other, the crimson-golden sunlight of late afternoon warming her face, her thoughts fizzling out into the hushed static of the waves that carries across the sand. Something in her would love nothing more than to push her shoes off and just walk the waterline and forget all of this for an hour so. But she didn't have an hour to throw away and shakes the notion away.

Glynda boards the second ship and finds it quiet, the corridor she enters apparently empty even of soldiers on duty. As she walks along the almost staggering silence begins to break up, and she finds the source coming from the infirmary. It's a soft, sustained note of song with haunting, crystal clarity that doesn't so much ring in her ears as it rings throughout her whole body, even in her aura. Goosebumps ripple across her skin in a strange chill as she moves steadily closer. Stepping through the sick bay door after it slides back, she quickly deduces Weiss as the source of the luring sound; the heiress is seated at the head of one of the beds, Ruby soundly - _heavily-_ sleeping with her head in the Winter Maiden's lap. Weiss herself seems none the wiser to the new presence in the room, her head tilted back and eyes shut as she hums from note to note undisturbed.

Glynda walks softly on, gently clearing her throat once she felt she was close enough to be heard. Weiss immediately stops and lifts her head, opalescent fractals in her eyes glistening with attention as her eyes fall on her former teacher. The young girl's initial curiosity quickly turns into something guarded but polite. "Has something happened?" she asks softly.

"No. I was hoping I could speak with Miss Rose for a moment."

"This is the soundest she's been able to sleep since we got back, can't it wait?"

"I'll try to be brief."

She didn't want to, she really didn't want to wake Ruby and not just because she was finally resting, but because she didn't want all the anxious fear and panic ringing through their link again. She just didn't think she had the strength to shoulder it right now. But that didn't change the fact that it needed to be done. Weiss starts off with a little shake of Ruby's shoulder, then another with a gentle, beckoning call of her name. She'll feel Ruby's consciousness float up out of the aether between them before her silver eyes flutter open. She feels her Team Leader shudder a little, and sympathy lances her like a spike through the heart.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions." Glynda begins, whether Ruby is ready or not.

The younger huntress takes a moment, takes a few deep breaths to bring herself closer to full wakefulness before carefully shifting to sit up, and then nods. "Okay."

"I was hoping you could tell me about your encounter with Salem."

She swallows the thickness in her throat, a loud gulp as she feels herself tense in one hard spasm from head to toe. "W-what do you want to know? I'll be honest...it's kind of in pieces still and I'm not sure where they all go. You'll have to be more specific."

"My apologies." Glynda tucks her chin. "More so, when Jarreth was killed."

"Who?"

"Ozpin, I meant to say."

"Oh. Okay." _yeah, you know, the **fourth** person you've seen die right in front of you._ "What about it?"

"Did anything stand out to you? Was there an exchange between them or...anything?"

Ruby's still for a moment, her chest expanding with a breath that hitches with a twinge of pain. Her mind is reaching back to that dark, chaotic place where she's been trying to stuff the events of the last twenty four hours away and wait for them to settle so she can ignore them better. Coupled with the light test drugs she had been given it was the only way she was able to relax enough to sleep. "Um...yeah. I'm trying to remember."

"Anything might be helpful."

Weiss' eyes thin on Glynda, defensive, holding her tongue against something biting out of her own sense of self respect.

Ruby plays back those several seconds one frame at time, some of them out of place and confusing. Coupled with the fragmented images are echoes and static, garbled nonsense that she struggles to decipher. For a long moment all she can focus on was the picture of Salem's hand through Ozpin's stomach and the blanched shock on the late headmaster's face. It comes a little more smoothly when Weiss takes her hand, their fingers lacing together.

"It's weird," her brow knits, and then she lifts her eyes to Glynda, "Salem made it seem like...I don't know...it almost sounded like Ozpin had been around for a long time. Like...a _really long time._ Almost like they had been fighting like this forever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and then she started talking about his mother, that she had tried to stop her before and couldn't. Then...she said more names," Ruby looks away, her brow pulling tighter as she thinks a little harder, tries not to wince and the fresh clench of pain in her side. "One of them started with an S...s-s-sah...Sarah -no.... _Seren_ , that was it." and she nods, hoping mostly to assure herself.

"And the other?"

"I...I'm trying, but it was unusual, I'm certain of that much."

"It's all right," Glynda shakes her head and waves her hand, dismissive. "Maybe it'll come to you later. Was there anything else?"

"Salem talked about his mother again, how she sacrificed herself. But...that's most of it, I think." she pauses, waiting for anything else, then she nods again. "Yeah, that's it. I mean, there might be more but..I just can't."

"I appreciate the effort all the same, Miss Rose, thank you. Again I apologize for having to wake you."

"I was hungry anyway." she groans. "Where's Yang?"

"I think she's still in bed, Blake too." Weiss answers, briefly measuring the likelihood of those two being in bed together doing something other than sleeping. "I can get you something from the commissary if you'd like."

"Maybe in a minute," Ruby shifts stiffly, leaning onto one elbow, "I want to see if I can sleep a little longer first."

"Is there anything else you need, Glynda?" Weiss has a suggestive lilt in her tone, like she wants the Witch to get out without actually having to say as much. "Ruby really needs to rest."

Thankfully the older woman appeared to catch on. "Of course. Please let me know if anything else should come to you."

And Ruby just nods, her jaw tight with the effort of moving. Once Glynda is gone, Weiss expects Ruby to lie down, but instead she makes her way to the edge of the bed and puts her feet on the floor, one arm across her stomach and her hand cupping her side.

"Ruby, what are you doing? You need to lie down." Weiss grouses.

"I will in a minute." she grunts a little. There's something she wants to do while she's of the presence of mind to, and while Glynda wasn't around.

"Well if you're going to be stubborn about it, at least let me help." Weiss hops down from the bed, rounding Ruby's side before she can get too much uneasy weight on her feet. With gentle care she takes her arm and drapes it across her neck, bearing as much of Ruby's weight as she can with a bracing hand at the small of her back. Ruby tilts her head in the direction she wants to go and Weiss complies before realizing what it is she wants.

 _Just need to see._ Ruby's voice echoes tightly across their link.

"See what?" but Weiss receives no answer as the two just walk the short distance from one bed to the other. Now she understands, putting away whatever other questions she might have had.

Pyrrha is still unresponsive. It doesn't look like she's moved at all, not that Ruby would know that for sure. At first she can't look at her just lying there, and instead Ruby just stares at the little screens of the devices that track her vitals, jumping green lights and numbers. Her ears focus tightly on Pyrrha's breathing, deep and full and rhythmic, hauntingly reminiscent of Yang when she's in a particularly heavy sleep which usually came about after a hard fight. When she's finally able to look at her face, part of her foggy brain struggles to recognize her.

Ruby remembers that red hair though it's so messy now. She still remembers the soft but high cheekbones and the beautifully hawk-like slope of her nose. She can just make out the breadth of her shoulders and even that sparks memories of her fan-girl swooning over her strength and grace as a fighter. And while all these things stirs memories and fondness and some abstract catharsis, she still isn't certain.

Weiss only watches as Ruby reaches for the edge of the blanket at the base of Pyrrha's throat, her eyes switching between her hand and her darkened, critical expression. Ruby takes the fabric between her fingers and pulls it down, not too far, but just far enough to see the raised and stark black mark in the middle of her sternum, staring up through the frayed edges of Jaune's hoodie. Weiss feels her Guardian tensing.

"What is it, Ruby?"

"Just," _just had to be sure._

_About...is that how she..._

"Yeah." Ruby nods lightly. "Cinder did that. Guess I just...yeah, I just needed to see for myself." Because so much bat-shit crazy stuff has been happening and she's having trouble distinguishing facts from smoke and mirrors. She tenses a little further and then her ribs shudder with an unexpected but restrained sob.

"Are you okay?" Weiss can see the shimmer of tears in Ruby's eyes.

"I t-tried." her lips are trembling and her mouth is dry, she rubs her forearm across her eyes. "This is my fault."

"No, Ruby, please don't," Weiss reaches down and loosens the blanket from Ruby's fingers, taking her hand. "What happened to Pyrrha wasn't your fault. We've been over this."

"I kn-know, but," she sniffles and rubs her eyes again, "but I still feel so guilty. And now Ozpin...I could've saved him."

"Ruby," Weiss can feel her pain crackling through the aether and it's breaking her heart.

"B-but," she starts breathing faster, trying to keep up with her thrumming heart, "b-but I was too _scared_." and then the tears come full force and she can't stop them.

Weiss thinks to say something but the idea dissolves as she feels Ruby's weight shift against her. Out of reflex and a little push of aura she bends to catch her Guardian behind the knees while still bracing her back and lifts Ruby into her arms. As carefully as she can she puts Ruby back to bed, perching on the edge and stroking her arm as Ruby sobs into her hands. Her cries are echoing in Weiss' head and it's awful, she can feel it burning in her bones, and it brings the beginnings of tears to her own eyes. Ruby flinches away from her touch and snatches up the blanket to cover herself entirely, hiding with a shuddering, whimpering " _ow_ " as the movement pulls her stitches.

For a moment Weiss isn't sure what to do, floundering as her soul buzzes painfully. Then she takes a quiet breath, stabilizing, and reaches for her scroll. Once she has Yang's contact on her screen she starts tapping out a text.

 _Sorry if this wakes you, but Ruby's having a rough time. Could you come and help me?_ She then hits send, surprised when she gets a response so much quicker than she expects.

_I was already awake, but yeah, I'm on my way. Is it the pain?_

_More of an emotional breakdown. I think she'd feel better if you were here too._ Just after she sends it off, she thinks of something else to say. _She also said she was hungry, so maybe grab a small something for her on your way._

_Roger that, see you in a few minutes._

_Thanks._

She sets her scroll down with a silent sigh, sadness and helplessness pulling her brow low over her eyes as she watches the shuddering heap beside her.

 

_(III)_

Cinder remembers back when she was barely a teenager watching Amalthea being burned alive by an angry mob in the middle of a Mistrali swamp. She also remembers immolating almost every last one of them so their ashes could mingle with the Witch's out of spite, just as she remembers the days long rampage she went on under the thrall of some blind fury, setting ablaze anything that stood in her way -what she doesn't quite recall are the three towns she razed to the ground. With staggering clarity she can remember the faces of the family that took her in after that and how long it took them to start beating her. To this day she never understood why it happened, or why they had even bothered to take her in, but at this point it most certainly didn't matter.

It started with brow beating _-wretched little orphan-_ and then evolved to knuckles and open hands. Then the man of the house lost his temper seemingly out of nowhere, choking her until she passed out. Something in her snapped when she came to -the fear of being homeless and alone vanished, and though she only somewhat remembers doing it, Cinder went into the attic, shattering the old mirror there and using the newly awakened variation of Semblance to make the slivers of glass into the most vicious vengeance she could think of.

After that is when Salem appeared to her. Her pale, vein streaked likeness blossomed into bloodied glass that was half buried in a man's corpse.

Cinder didn't know how the Witch was able to find her and Salem never took the time to explain. At that time she was much too busy trying to convince her younger self that _she_ knew Cinder was special, that she deserved so much _better_. Hurt and furious and lost, Cinder all too readily agreed to anything Salem asked of her. The following years took her all over the northern regions of Mistral in search of various things, which she soon enough discerned were poorly veiled lessons in slight of hand and pickpocketing that eventually graduated to include expert bullshitting. By the time she was in her twenties and met Roman Torchwick, she was already a seasoned con artist of the highest order.

Her countless excursions allowed for Cinder to come into a substantial collection of black Dust, which Salem quickly divulged it as something Cinder desperately needed. Once she had gathered enough, the Witch had her devoting more time to honing her Semblance, namely her uncanny ability to manipulate glass. Eventually Salem had her craft a mirror from the pitch Dust, and around the same time the Witch told Cinder about the Maidens because a Maiden would have the power to us it for its intended purpose.

The same mirror stands before her now, the last -and first- time she used it was after she escaped from Beacon Tower and met with Salem on the other side many months ago. For Emerald and Neo, this is their first time seeing it.

All three are armed and ready to proceed, though the two Guardians aren't nearly as confident of what they're about to do as their Maiden appears to be. Cinder reaches out and lets her palm ease over the flawlessly smooth surface, a flicker of brimstone energy spilling into it and setting it aglow. After a moment of flaring and waning, the magic collapses to the center and appears to pull the glass inwards and until it breaks open into blackness. "Stay close to me." she says, and then starts forward. "Be ready for anything."

They'll come through the other side with weapons drawn and fingers on triggers, only to find Salem's throne room mostly empty. Not only is it empty, but it's just shy of a disaster area with shards of stone and pitch pin feathers and...rose petals strewn about the floor. And the place is quiet as a tomb, which could only lead to so many conclusions. Cinder takes quiet, intentional steps across the floor, her eyes flaring brightly as she scans the room. She stops at the lip of the great chasm in the middle of the floor, daring to stare into the abyss as she lets pieces fall into place in her mind. It doesn't stare back.

Emerald is doing the same, rounding one side of the demolished chamber as Neo takes the other in a similar fashion. She kneels down and chances to touch some of the debris, lingering on a fractured feather. "Must have been a hell of a fight," she exhales, her brow knit in curious concern.

"No doubt." Cinder's voice echoes through the space, albeit minimally. "Come on, let's keep looking, there's obviously no one _here_."

The three of them take the passage on the far side of the room and begin steadily downward. Cinder only just knows the way, having been here but once before. They meet a few Grimm, a seemingly stray pack of Beowolves that they dispatch with little effort. A few times they have to double back where the tunnels open up in the wall of the yawning pit they saw on the surface. Eventually they enter the most extreme subterranean passages in the place, and wave of residual magic washes over them. Almost immediately the Fall Maiden's eyes begin to burn, casting a golden glow faintly across the stone corridor for several feet ahead. She proceeds cautiously, heat pooling in her palms.

Initially, she can't distinguish one twist of magic from the other, all of them blurred together in the aether like invisible stars colliding, so there is no way for her to know what's coming next or if anything is coming at all. The closer they come to the far end of the passage, coming into the dim light cast by the shattered moon through fractured glass, the more clarity she gains. She senses Glynda, she senses that silver-eyed brat, and she most definitely feels the skin-deep charge of the other Maidens. And through all that, like candlelight in a pitch black room, she feels the dark energy of something else. It both feels and doesn't feel like Salem. When they reach the center of it all, Cinder almost immediately picks up the faint scent of blood.

A strain of quiet, then Emerald speaks up. "You think they got to Salem first?"

"I think that might be precisely what happened." and a part of Cinder wants to be angry. She _really_ wanted to show the Witch just how big a mistake threatening her had been. But there's still that little flicker of something prodding the back of her mind, like a needy child's beckoning finger, that keeps her fury in check. Mentally she's searching for the source.

"So what do we do now? Should we head back?"

"In a minute." because she _has_ to know where it's coming from. She wasn't going to leave any sooner.

She leaves her Guardians behind as she pushes further down the passage, passed shards of glass that litter the floor, but she'll find it isn't just glass. There is an unmissable metallic jingle as the toe of boot bumps something loose that isn't stone or glass, drawing her eyes down. Picking it up and turning it over in her fingers Cinder is quick to decipher it as the fragment of a blade's edge, and her sensitivity to the magical residue clinging to the steel makes her aura bristle. Looking down there are more shards of metal, some of it painted black and a distinct shade of red. A certain powerful amusement begins to swell in the Fall Maiden's chest as she takes a wild guess at what she's stumbled onto. _Oh this is just rich._ Maybe this wasn't such a big let down after all. _Maybe the bitch is dead._

But that isn't the cause of the nagging notion still pulling her on, daring her into the impossible darkness that seems to nest at the end of the cave. Cinder stuffs the fragment into her pocket, like a loveable trinket she might wear around her neck just because.

She returns attention to the almost palpable shadow that lays across the width of the cavern like a curtain, or more so a spider's web, and it's so thick and immense and Cinder feels like she's the only one who can really see it. She stands before it, quietly marveling, and for the briefest second she considers to reach out and touch it -this is where that little mote of energy is coming from...but how? Cinder takes a half step closer and actually feels it respond to her presence, a little vibration that almost translates as timidity against the Maiden's aura. What a curious thing.

"Cinder?"

She doesn't miss the worry in Emerald's voice, the obvious nervousness. Maybe...yes, maybe it was best to withdraw. For now.

 

 

Author's Note:  Hey everyone! First of all I just want to say thanks so much for everyone's wonderful comments and reviews over the last week -I'm super appreciative and grateful. It's been a whole lot of fun talking to you all and just know I'm always open for questions and conversation. But on to the important stuff: next chapter will likely bring about the official shift of attention between RWBY and JNPR. The teams will go their separate ways to tend their separate matters and I'll be giving JNPR a majority of the attention. But, on the plus side, we'll be delving more into how Pyrrha's death effected the people that loved her most -her team and her family. Also I think next chapter will also have Tag and Billy's...whatever you want to call it. I'm surprised how many people actually mentioned how excited they were to see it, so chances are good you'll get your wish soon. Love you guys!

 


	44. Chapter Forty-Three

Sometimes you sleep so hard you wake up still feeling tired, maybe even drunk-ish, and that's how Tag feels when she opens her eyes after sleeping all through the night and all the latter half of the previous day. She's twisted up in her blanket on the bunk in the barracks, her body is turned long ways over it so her upper half is dangling over the side and her legs are strangely crossed and propped up on the steel wall. Everything is upside down and for several seconds she just blinks until her brain catches up. When it does she grumbles to herself, no real reason why, as she tucks her body and rolls half boneless onto all fours on the floor. She stands up stretching, bones popping, and for a few seconds she can feel how old she is. The Spring Maiden can't recall the last time she felt so tired, part of her is unsure if it's ever been like this.

After she leaves the barracks her first stop is for food, pulling out all the stops she can think of to convince the cook to put as much as will fit on her plate. Thankfully he was feeling generous and just told her to "say when" as he piled on scrambled eggs and flapjacks and potatoes. She'll grab a cup of coffee after that, thinking it would give her a little extra oomph to get her through the day. Somehow she manages to eat it all and thanks the cook one last time before she strolls out, feeling worlds better than when she had come in.

With no visible hurry she makes her way through the ship, greeting who she passes whether or not she recognizes them until she reaches the infirmary. Poking her head in first she waits until the medic acknowledges her presence before stepping the rest of the way in. She takes a moment to ask him how the night went, if there had been any changes, and when he has nothing of note to report she thanks him all the same and goes about her business.

Mindful of her tail -which is particularly unruly for a brief instant- Tag sits herself down at the foot of Pyrrha's bed, carefully lifting the girl's feet to rest across her legs as before. She adjusts until she's comfortable, expecting to be here as long as she's able with her back lining the wall and shoulders relaxed. Lacing her fingers together she takes a couple of cleansing breaths, pulling up the magic from beneath her aura as she exhales. There's a little spark, followed by a wave of warmth that reaches from her scalp to her soles, and then a minor jolt as the energy steadily begins to ease into Pyrrha's body. After a moment her eyes begin to glow and their hearts match rhythm, same as the cadence of their breathing, and with that the bond is fully formed.

Yesterday had been such a rush job, she thinks. Tag had no choice but to work slowly, but by the same token she had to prioritize things to ensure Pyrrha's survival. Fractured ribs with jagged ends lingering perilously close to her heart and lungs had been one of the first injuries Tag addressed, putting it at the top of her mental list. From there she had shifted her focus singularly onto Pyrrha's heart, finding it what she sensed as on the verge of failure from sheer exhaustion. But, at the same time, that's where Tag found the real problem.

The Lion, or at least a trace of it, remained.

Her magic mapped the physical mass of the Progenitor's essence like a tumor perched atop her heart, a pitch cocoon that had cast an anchoring web of darkness throughout Pyrrha's chest cavity, coiling around her ribs and spine. Once the huntress' life was out of immediate danger, the worst injuries gently mended, Tag set to trying her best to contain the Grimm's remains. A majority of yesterday's time was given to that task, and what little she felt she had accomplished paled in comparison to the total depletion she felt afterward.

And through it all Pyrrha's body pulled on her restorative magic like someone drowning and struggling to surface for air because her own aura hadn't found its way back, at least that's the best way Tag could think to explain it. And she hoped she could come up with something better when it came time to tell everyone.

Today she'll try to work on the girl's lesser injuries, that is anything she couldn't give attention to yesterday which turned into a long list rather quickly. Offhand she begins with a fracture in her jaw, thinking Pyrrha would like to have it working when she wakes up and starts talking -maybe not today or tomorrow, but hopefully soon. Once the countless fibers of bone tissue interlace and pull together, her focus shifts to the next issue, only having to feel it out for a moment before she senses the dull burn of ulcers in her stomach.

_You'll likely be starving when you wake up. You poor thing._

_Starving._

The magic ripples with pause and the Faunus' dark brows flit towards her hairline, curious. She knows she heard that -or felt it- but didn't let herself get too hopeful, it was most likely some sort of reflexive echo, an involuntary response like goosebumps to the cold against your skin. Still, Tag will continue thinking aloud as she works, on the off chance it's more than that.

 

It's been quiet, _gods_ it's been so blissfully quiet. It is the most silent her head has been in so very long, all she wants is to drift in it and be left alone. She just wants to sleep and sleep and sleep. Stay down, be still, play dead. But it's cold -why is it so cold? Her slumber is deep and solid but not so much that she isn't aware of the mental shivering. It penetrates to her bones, makes them ring with a dull ache, and her brain regularly argues with whether or not to acknowledge it any further than its frigid discomfort. Considering the absolute hell it had been dealing with, the overtaxed cluster of neurons and gray matter was willing and able to overlook it in favor of a few more hours of sleep.

But then there's warmth, and that makes it stir again. At first it's dim and timid like a firefly, but then spreads is wings to chase the cold and stillness away with a gentle sort of life. It had done this once before some unmeasurable amount of time ago, but it was far from timid or gentle, as if the sun had forgone its usual lazy rise above the horizon for a harsh, blinking instant of scalding light and energy. It had been painful, but her body responded to it in a ravenous fashion, starved for something it didn't even recognize. Now it's back again but it's so welcoming and soothing and it tempts her to wake up but she's still so _gods damn_ _**tired** _ _._ And when is that talking going to stop?

_Your friends are so worried about you, took almost everything short of an act of Nature to get them to sleep a while._

A mental wince, the voice echoes like nails on a chalkboard. But as the sound tapers off it softens, becomes strangely maternal though she knows it isn't her mother.

_I don't know if you remember what happened, but if you do, I hope you won't be angry with them. We were only doing what we had to._

There's a strain of quiet, then, _Mother._

_Oh? Are you with me after all?_

Her consciousness is starting to rise, slowly and in pieces like smoke while her body continues pulling on that warm light. Anything to get away from the cold -she can almost feel her arms crossing her chest, trying to trap what little heat she feels in her body.

_Could you try to answer me again? Can you tell me your name?_

Pulling teeth might have been easier, but she can suddenly feel her mouth and it feels full of dust and bones so that might not be true. _Pyrrha...Nikos. I'm Pyrrha Nikos._

The warmth swells and permeates her further. _It's nice to finally meet you, Pyrrha. Well, in a way._ A little laugh translates through the link as a faint chiming. _My name's Tag._

_I'm cold...hungry._

_I know, I'm doing my best but I can't fix everything. Would you be willing to try opening your eyes? I can help you,_

_I'm. So._ _**Tired** _.

_I know that too, but it'll only be a little while, alright?_

_...Alright._

Tag draws back a little of the magic, enough to dim the glowing in her eyes so she can watch as Pyrrha begins to stir stiffly beneath the blankets. The human girl's chest rises in one big swell, her brow drawing together for a second before relaxing again when she exhales. Then another deep breath and her eyelids flutter asymmetrically. Once Tag is certain she's come around she pulls the energy back, hoping Pyrrha will stay conscious without it.

Her senses take their sweet time coming back, and the first thing Pyrrha is certain of is the much too bright light making her eyes burn. Then her ears pick up a tiny, distant sounding apology, the thrum of blood in her ears almost drowning it out entirely. Her mouth is dry, _so dry_ , and when she tries to speak and beg for something to drink, her throat pinches tight and refuses to budge. Her next thought is to move her hands and that's when her brain crackles at the cold stiffness in her muscles. Gods above it's still so cold.

"Take it easy, one thing at a time," Tag encourages softly as she maneuvers out of the bed. She props herself on the edge and leans forward a bit. "Try to focus on me if it helps."

In a way it does, dim green eyes are able to track the big brown blur above her. The hard part is just keeping her eyes open long enough for everything to come into focus. When it does, Pyrrha blinks up at the Faunus who modestly smiles back. "Good morning."

Pyrrha tries again to speak and can't, this time the tightness of her throat is met with a scratching sort of pain that makes her wince. It's an all but herculean effort to pull her hands up and above the blanket, her muscles having almost no purchase at all, so she can communicate in the only other way she knows. Her hands are close to her chin, the furthest she could manage, and with slow, fatigued deliberation she begins to move them together.

"Oh," Tag's brows jump. "You sign? My packmate Elo taught me, he's mute." and she watches as Pyrrha attempts to nod, her hands still moving. It takes Tag a moment to decipher what she's trying to say, the human's form of hand-speech slightly different from what she knows -initially she thought Pyrrha was going on about ants or something. "...It hurts to speak, you say? Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you. If it's better, I'll just stick to easy questions, alright?"

Sluggishly, bit by bit, Pyrrha forms a response. _Water. Please._

Tag nods confidently. "Now that you're awake I would imagine the doctor will want a look at you, but I'll let him know what you want. Just...just sit tight, okay?"

The Spring Maiden does exactly as she said, directly making her way to the medic's station to elaborate him on the situation and emphasizing Pyrrha's desperate need for something to drink. He'll get right to work, but only after pausing one last time when Tag asks if she could let her teammates know she's awake. All he asks is that she not rush to do it, that he'll need a few minutes before he's certain that visitation is safe. Also, as a courtesy, he thinks to call on Specialist Holiday, who is fluent in Mistrali Sign and can help with translating. She offers him quiet thanks and has to make a conscious attempt to slow her enthusiastic strides down the corridor. It's an effort to keep her excitement in check; she's just so happy because she knows these poor kids are going to happy and they've been so sad for so long -now that she thinks of it, a bit of joy is sorely needed by all of them.

The barracks are still but hardly quiet as someone is snoring to wake the dead and Tag immediately recognizes it as Nora because Nature's grace, what a noise. Passing her bunk -more so _their_ bunk- she finds the young Witch spreadeagled with an arm and a leg slung across Ren's body, mouth wide open as she takes noisy lungfuls of air. How Ren is so soundly sleeping is easily the greatest mystery the older Faunus has ever encountered. Part of her had half expected to find Jaune somehow squashed in with the two of them, but the bunks are simply too small even when taking Ren and Nora's space saving maneuver into account. She'll spot him just one bunk down, his sock clad foot poking from beneath the blanket and over the side of the bed. Tag taps his heel a couple times until he stirs, his flaxen bedhead catching her eyes.

Jaune sputters and grunts and rubs his eyes as he manages to sit up, ending the effort with a soft clearing of his throat. "Everything okay?"

"There have been some notable improvements, yes." she replies softly, and then she waits, hoping he can take a wild guess as to what she means. For a moment they just look at each other, Tag steadily smiling while he studies her expression with a sort of confusion that makes his own face twist. Then he blinks and it's suddenly there. He knows. At least he thinks he knows.

"Is she...?" he breathes.

Tag smiles a little wider before easing into an abbreviated explanation of the current circumstances, starting off with the chance that they might not be able to visit with Pyrrha just yet, but then she's quick to assure him of whatever silver lining she can scrape together. Not that he needs much. He looks relieved and happy and he's breathing like he wants to laugh but remembers the others sleeping in the bunks around him, so he gathers himself together with a smile stuck on his face and a bit of teary shimmer in his eyes. He sucks them down suddenly when she starts away from him.

"Are you headed back?"

She pauses and half turns, "No, actually. I need some fresh air, but then I'll think to see if Glynda needs my help with Salem." because her compulsion is buzzing, nudging her towards another seemingly fragile life. "As much as you might think I shouldn't,"

"You do what you have to, right? Doesn't matter what I think." and he watches her tilt her head, wordlessly conceding. "You still haven't talked to Billy, have you?"

"I haven't seen them...in truth, I think a part of me is still trying to figure out what to say. There's just...sorry isn't good enough." she shakes her head and then pushes her hand through her hair, looking lost.

"I guess not, but," he thinks and thinks, finding nothing, "well, who knows?"

"Indeed." now she nods and continues on her way, not stopping again until she finally gets outside, sand beneath her toes that's only just beginning to warm with the morning sun. Immediately she's drawn towards the water, to the little pulses of life she feels darting under the waves that roll in. She'll jump in and disappear in the tide with little delay, in time spotting a pod of dolphins to swim with.

Jaune will remain in his bunk a little longer, minding Tag's insistence that he not hurry to the infirmary in spite of how badly he wants to. He wants to see Pyrrha, he wants to see her awake and responsive and more like her old self, just as badly as he wants to see Nora smile like she used to and for Ren to finally lose the little worry in his eyes that's been there for much too long. Still, he'll discipline himself to stay put for a while, even lying back down and staring at the ceiling on the chance he might get a little more sleep. When that no longer pacifies him he checks the time on his scroll and thinks now would be a good time for breakfast, he also finds a text from his mother waiting for him. He can almost hear her somewhat scolding tone in his head as he reads her message, saying _"it's been too long since I heard from you, stop making me worry. With love, your tired, old momma."_ Jaune laughs a little to himself as he taps out a response.

_Sorry for the worry. It's been a rough few days but we're all okay. We're in Menagerie and I got to meet Rusty and Maab. Will call once I'm in range again. Love, Jaune._

And when a little message pops up that he's too far from the nearest tower for the text to be delivered, he sets it up to send the moment it's able before stuffing the little device back in his pocket. This also reminds him that he needs to stop sleeping in his jeans.

Eventually his stomach growls louder than he can stand and that compels him to finally climb down from his bunk. He'll pull on his boots but doesn't feel the need to lace them up, so he tucks the ends in and then moves to wake Ren and Nora. It takes some doing, mostly on Nora's part, but once he mentions breakfast she's moving along just fine. He'll wait until after they eat to tell them about Pyrrha, mostly because he knows how that's going to go over and he couldn't be more right. He knows Nora will drop everything and make a break for it, which she does though Ren gets her by the wrist at the last second. She's visibly unhappy about it but won't jerk away from him like before, though Jaune knows by the look on her face that she really wants to.

Ren just gently requests "Let's go together." with pleading eyes, and that seems to be enough to help Nora find her patience again. She sits and sulks but only for a moment, eventually forcing herself to wait until they've cleaned up after themselves.

Jaune will keep an eye on her as they leave the commissary, unsure of what he's watching for but just feeling like he needs to. He lingers a few steps behind her and Ren, anticipation only a secondary feeling to his curiosity. Has Ren always put his hand around Nora's waist like that? Normally they just hold hands when they walk side by side, right? And why were they whispering? Probably nothing more than his tired brain trying to make something out of nothing. He'll let Nora and Ren maintain their lead on him and linger in the doorway of the infirmary for a moment. He just waits and watches, wanting to see what happens. That, and he knows they need this so much more than he does.

Nora fidgets like an anxious puppy, taking a big step away from Ren only to stop and look around as if expecting someone to stop her. The closest thing to resistance she receives is a cautioning word of "be gentle" from the chief medic. Then she cuts to Ren who encourages her on with a nod -he's feeling very much the same as Jaune. Nora needs this and she needs it all to herself, he would patiently wait his turn. Nora's still bandaged hands fuss together stiffly in front of her as she takes three more steps, and this time she looks to Specialist Holiday as she props herself against the wall at the foot of Pyrrha's bed. She catches the ginger Witch's pleading gaze and reacts.

"Miss Nikos, you've got visitors."

Pyrrha stirs beneath the pile of blankets, and it feels like the world just stops. Partly sat up against a stack of pillows she shifts, her hands flexing where they lay atop her chest, one scratching at the itch of medical tape keeping the IV in place, and a flicker of movement making one scarlet brow jump. Her head turns towards them all in an almost unintentional way, like it is simply too heavy and her neck too weak to stop it, then she opens her eyes. For a moment, she and Nora look back at one another, Nora's lips tucking tight between her teeth when she can't make herself do anything else. Pyrrha moves her hands deliberately, slowly, making Nora look at Specialist Holiday expectantly.

"W-what is," the words fail, her throat tightening.

Daisy looks a little uncertain, getting Pyrrha's attention and repeating the gestures in a request for confirmation, which she receives. "She says 'hello again'."

The tension in the room snaps as tears fill Nora's eyes and roll down her cheeks almost instantly. She covers her mouth against a burst of watery laughter -Ruby was still sleeping in the other bed after all- and then leans into a series of uneven steps that brings her to Pyrrha's side where she collapses to her knees. Already sobbing she puts her arms around Pyrrha, doing so just a bit too quickly as the fragile champion winces with a grunt at the impact and pressure of her hold. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Nora gushes into her friend's shoulder. "I just missed you so much and I'm so glad you're back and I just want to hold you and never _ever_ let go and _-oh my god_ I can hear your heart beat _,"_

Pyrrha bears the weight of it silently, looking untroubled though her nerves are crackling at physical contact. Still she responds, doing her best to at least get one arm across her teammate's back. When she does it only seems to make Nora cry harder. She's apologizing again.

Ren sees fit to step up now, putting his hand on Nora's shoulder and helping her reign in her emotions a little with a tiny pulse of his Semblance. Just a little, enough for his partner to ease back physically though she'll keep a solid grip on Pyrrha's hand -the one with the IV so she has a constant reminder to be gentle. She doesn't appear to notice the claws. They exchange an extended look, Ren only partly unhappy with Nora's tear streaked cheeks and reddened eyes since it's for a good reason. Then he looks at Pyrrha, shocked in a way when she looks back at him.

His breath catches and for a second he can't speak, but the setting of his eyes says volumes about his anxiety. "...You still remember us?"

A slow blink, and her free hand starts moving again.

"She's spelling your names." Daisy clarifies. And everyone watches, especially those that don't understand as Pyrrha does exactly that, one letter at a time.

Jaune finally feels fit to move, taking consciously quiet steps towards the bed so he could see better, since he couldn't actually _see through_ Ren and Nora. He navigates himself to appear almost between them though the space is small, and when he looks to see Pyrrha's hand moving, somehow he knows she's shaping his name. Though he'd never seen someone communicate like this before in his life, he still knew. Maybe it was how her eyes drifted so tiredly to settle on him as she made the shape of the last letter. And all he can do is just smile back, looking as vulnerable as he feels as the weight of all this really settles on his shoulders.

This is all real, _really real_ -Pyrrha's alive and the universe is officially upside down.

"Now," Daisy clears her throat, "I don't want to ruin the warm and fuzzies you kids got going right now, but we need to seriously discuss what's next. We're running low on supplies, so we'll have to leave Menagerie soon. Not to mention our medical resources aren't suited for long term care -and she's going to need that."

"We're not going back to Atlas." Jaune shakes head, answering reflexively.

"I understand that, but wasn't that whole discussion centered around Miss Nikos' consent? If that's what she wants, are you going to go against it?"

He feels his heart clench, catching the pleading glances of Ren and Nora before he shakes his head again. "...Of course not." But he can feel it like a bitter knot in his stomach that the absolutely last thing they should do is let Atlas take her. He'd fight that to his last breath if he had to. He sighs, the noise only slightly revealing his agitation, then he catches Pyrrha's gaze which was still on him. "Do you have the energy for this? If you don't, just say so."

Pyrrha gestures in a way that everyone translates as a go ahead. For her sake the ensuing briefing is restricted to the most crucial points with some allowances for concerns from both parties involved - "we don't know what this is, and Atlesian scientists are the best way to find out" versus "I don't trust them, they might never let you leave" -both valid yet neither seeming enough to make the exhausted champion visibly concerned. They blame it on her more than obvious fatigue, or maybe some unconscious indifference to both alternatives being better than being under the thrall of a powerful Witch. After everything is said and done, it boils down to a simple question: "What do you want?"

It doesn't take long for her to respond, only a while to physically form the answer. One hand lifts to her face, her first three fingers touching her thumb as they come to rest beside her mouth, then, keeping that shape, her hand moves a few inches back towards her ear to touch her cheek. Jaune looks to Daisy for a translation.

"Home." the specialist answers.

 

_(--)_

"What do you make of it?"

Tag inhales and exhales at full capacity, her magic retreating into her core like a receding tide. "It's already begun to heal, but if I finish it there's a good chance it won't be right. She needs more precise work than I can do. I'm sorry."

Glynda nods, "I was afraid of that, though I appreciate the effort. What she needs is a proper hospital."

"Maybe if I had gotten to her sooner," Tag shakes her head, standing up from the bed and looking down at Salem as she does.

"You had more pressing matters. Speaking of which, have there been any improvements in Miss Nikos' case?"

"Yes, actually. Things are looking better." and she's cautious to give the Witch more, unsure what might come out of it.

"That's good to hear." She adjusts her glasses and clears her throat. For a moment she just watches the Faunus, realizing her gaze has shifted. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, just," Tag takes in the concealed form in the other bed, the outline of the shroud. "Billy and I had been searching for Ozpin for months. _Months_ of wandering through a strange kingdom full of strange people...now this is what we get." her body expands and contracts, coupled with a sad, defeated sound. "Do you humans have a word for moments like these?"

"Cruelly ironic. Maybe tragic, even." the Witch responds flatly.

Then she laughs a little. "Listen to me carrying on -you've lost a friend, haven't you? I'm so sorry,"

"Indeed." Glynda's chin drops, her eyes to the floor as she crosses her arms and shifts on her heels. "But by the same token I have my sister back. In a way at least. Though,"

"Hm?"

"You didn't happen to pick up on anything, did you? Anything out of place or... _otherly_? I didn't, but I thought you of all people would be able to find something I overlooked,"

"Oh, such as," then it clicks, "ah, yes, I see. No, I didn't find anything."

Glynda nods again, her posture a little more relaxed. "And what about Miss Nikos?"

Tag swallows, initially unsure what to say and what not to say. "I'm not sure yet. I haven't been able to do much more than help her body recover. I know what you're suspicious of, I am too, but it's still too soon for me to know."

"Very well." Glynda accepts after a moment, though her tone of voice is only so convincing. "Then I suppose, whatever happens, you'll stay with her until you're sure?"

"I imagine so, yes."

"...Could I ask a favor?"

Sable brows lift towards a sable hairline as curiosity stretches Tag's face, and she watches as Glynda searches for and finds her scroll and subsequently pulls it from her pocket. "I can't ask Jaune to do this, he clearly doesn't trust me enough, so perhaps you would be willing to keep me updated?"

Tag looks at the fragile seeming device and then back to her. "I hardly know how to use those things."

"It's very simple, and I can set it up so the network will recognize it as yours -I'll just have another one issued to me." Glynda's tapping away on it, putting in various codes and prompts.

"Why?" Tag's brown knits noticeably, her glare brimming with veiled suspicion.

"If they won't allow the proper professionals to look into Miss Nikos' condition, I would hope you wouldn't object to at least allowing me to keep some sort of record of how it develops."

"So you can tell your General whats-his-face?" the question is almost accusatory.

"Only if necessary."

"And you're expecting me to believe you?"

"I've yet to lie to you." Glynda says plainly, eyes still on her scroll.

"No, but you and yours have played some of these poor children like puppets and caused them an impossible amount of heartache to meet your own ends. Your mission got my mother killed, and indirectly, most of my Guardian's own children because of your involvement with Pyrrha. Perhaps you're not dishonest, Glynda, but you're something worse; you're a consequentialist." and she watches the shock come over the human's face as her head snaps up. "You didn't think I'd know that word, did you?"

"Hell, _I_ didn't even know that word." though she's far from amused. "Still, I believe I've caught your meaning, and you're correct."

"Surprising, since you're Springborn."

" _Early_ Spring." Glynda corrects. "But we're getting off-topic. I'll understand if you decline, but if nothing else...maybe it will help me with Salem should she begin showing similar symptoms. I'll contact you initially so you know I can be reached, but after that...you tell me only what you see fit."

Tag turns square to the Witch, "And I'm not keeping it a secret from them, if that's what you wanted then that's just too bad."

"Fair enough." the room she has to argue is perilously thin, and those aren't betting odds for anyone, least of all herself. "So you'll do it?"

"I will. Just remember what you said." Tag will take the scroll when Glynda offers it. "You'll know what I let you know."

"I will." though she knows, _by gods_ does she know that's going to bite her in the ass later. "Now let me help you set this up."

"Glynda,"

Her attention is immediately and reflexively snatched up by the sound of her mother's voice, her head all but spinning on her neck to look behind her.

"Rusty's brought the casket, him and the biggin' are bringing it aboard now. I also got the kids their weapons back. So you'll be heading out soon?"

Glynda's glasses slip down her nose as surprise pulls her face. "First I've heard of it."

"That's what I heard between Holiday and the older Schnee, less all four of my ears are starting to go." which is just as feasible. "These kids don't like talking to you much at all, do they?" and she almost laughs.

"So it seems." the younger Witch scowls briefly. "I'll give it some time, maybe they'll clue me on their own. If not sooner, I'll look into it. once...Jarreth is taken care of."

Maab nods, looking to say something but cutting it off as she hears Rusty calling from the hallway, alerting anyone he can't see to make room. He'll come in backwards through the door, his head cocked almost uncomfortably to look over his shoulder as he hefts one end of the long wooden box. The wood from the local trees is dense and resinous, the entire infirmary smelling of something almost harsh and spicy within seconds of the casket's delivery. Carrying the other end is a Faunus of unmistakeable size and silhouette, and Tag's gaze falls on them with the weight of ten worlds. It's only an instant before silver and emerald laced darkness meet and hold tensely, and only an instant more for the bond to break.

Tag will excuse herself, promising to finish what she and Glynda had begun in due time, and she quickly moves across the room. She's unable to look them in the eyes again, but she doesn't have to.

"Can we talk?" she asks meekly, standing shoulder to ribs with Billy.

"Once I've finished here, yes." their response is neutral but tight with physical effort. "Outside?"

"Please."

"Very well." and that was the end of it. Tag left the room, and Billy continued with their current task.

The Spring Maiden hurriedly traces the passages of the ship feeling like it's actually sitting on her shoulders until she steps out of its shadow and onto the sand. It's early afternoon now and the sun is warm, the breeze wet but gentle. She won't have to wait long at all, but to her it feels like forever, and all the while her tail anxiously digs a hole in the sand without her notice. She stands in the sand and watches as Billy comes out of the ship, seeming to fill the opening, impossibly large, and she swallows a thickness in her throat. Their unpainted face is neutral as they look back at her and she can barely stand it -they should be angry, at the very least appear hurt or saddened.

Before she can stop it, Tag sobs pitifully "I'm sorry."

Billy's brow knits, their expression strangely gentle as their big chest expands and contracts. One long stride puts them on the sand and two more brings them in front of her, still separated by an arm's length of emptiness. "That's not necessary, though it's appreciated. I understand that I left you no choice."

Tag lifts her eyes, tears leaving glistening trails down her cheeks, and it's obvious she didn't expect that response. "Y-you're...not angry?"

"Of course I'm angry, but not at you. Though I was." They shake their head a little, almost smiling in an attempt to comfort her. But they know that it would be a useless effort, because they know what the likely conclusion of this conversation is going to be and it isn't going to be pleasant. "It's why I didn't come to you sooner, I needed time to think...to seek council. I think this has...this is much bigger than casting blame and making amends."

Tag sniffles, trying to compose herself. "I...I don't understand."

"You broke your word, your _one_ promise to me and the only thing I have ever asked of you," they hate to see Tag wince like that, "but by the same token I blatantly disobeyed you. I mean to say is this is so much more than hurt feelings." and then they present their bare wrist and wait.

It takes a moment, confusion twisting the Otter's features before she casts her eyes down. When she fully realizes what has happened she just gapes, her jaw working uselessly.

"The bond's been severed. The trust broken." and it's only now that their voice breaks a little on the tightening in their throat, their big hand drawing back, unmarked. "I know good and well you had no choice, I understand and don't hold it against you, but...I also felt I was doing what I had to. I just...I had to have that for myself, if nothing else."

Tag lets the words sink in, feeling her heart drift further and further down with them. She isn't sure what's more painful; on the one hand she understands how Billy feels. Their entire life had been nothing but service to the village and the clans, in one form or another, since the instant they were born. The fact they had silver eyes had been the only thing that saved their family -already outsiders at the time- from being chased off, their admittance bartered for by a promise that Billy would be raised as a hunter and Guardian and nothing else. Even their numerous offspring weren't sired wholly out of free choice, they had been browbeaten and forbade to marry by the elders to do it to strengthen the population. And they hadn't even been allowed to raise or keep them, save one in the end, though that is by the thinnest definition.

On the other hand, the two of them had nearly twenty years of trust and love...more love than they both knew was allowed. Yet Billy willingly gave all that up to...

The anger snaps through her in a way that she's positive she's never experienced. She feels magic and aura spinning together and popping like heated embers in her chest and her body is steadily tensing, peaking when her hands clench into fists. The wind suddenly pitches, whistling, whipping the sand around their feet and making it bite at their bare ankles. But it's brief. The Spring Maiden simply isn't well acquainted with fury enough to want it close for long. She just doesn't know how to be angry, so she lets herself cry instead. Her head drops, chin to her chest, and her shoulders hike to her ears and shudder as she sobs.

Billy feels a terrible clench behind their ribs and it makes their lungs stop for a moment with a pinch of pain. They always hated seeing people cry -anyone, they didn't know what to do or how to feel. Part of them says to take her up in their big arms and just hold on, assure her that everything will be all right and they can start over. But another part is telling them to stand their ground in spite of how much it hurts to watch her, because that part is convinced this is better.

"I'm sorry, Tag." and they mentally wince at the choking noise their fellow Faunus makes. "But you clearly can't trust me to follow your orders any longer so...I think it's best that I not carry on as your Guardian."

Tag's head snaps up and she quickly wipes her eyes with one forearm. "And what about me? What about what _I_ think is _best_ ? _I'm the Maiden_ , for Nature's sake," She takes one big, menacing step towards them, pauses, then takes another. "What if I think we should try? What if we can fix this?"

"You deserve better than me."

" _But that's not what I want_ ! And I know _damn_ good and well that you don't want that either!" and she waits, watching them, a stab of hurt going through her when they won't look her in the eye. "Unless you do,"

Silence.

Tag scowls hard. "Then why bother speaking with me at all?"

"Because I won't just up and abandon you. We don't have to break _all_ our promises, do we?"

"Oh, stop it!" The Maiden shouts. "You're using this as an excuse."

"Tag,"

"You _are_ , look me in the eye and tell me you're not!" They can't, and that just makes her more upset, her teeth starting to show through a half formed snarl. "For Nature's sake, Billy," she cries.

Finally they look at her and their entire demeanor has changed, even the way they stand. Their frame has straightened, tensed, just like their expression. "So what is it you're really upset about? My complacency, that I tried to murder an innocent girl, or that the one time I tried to take something for myself it wasn't _you_?"

It felt like getting punched in the stomach. Tag actually bends at the waist in one sharp flinch, an invisible fist settling in her gut as the air is pushed out of her lungs. She takes a stumbling half step back. Seeing her like this makes the Bison soften again.

"Tag, you knew this from the beginning, ever since you became a Maiden you knew. And even then I kept trying to tell you."

"Well you're not my Guardian now, so you can stop telling me!" the anger's back, still unfamiliar and unruly and too much like broken glass, "You don't have to keep telling me _anything_ anymore! _You don't have to say another damn word to me ever again_!"

"Tag,"

"No! Go, if that's what you want! Go back to the village and have that life you always wanted -the one you talked about with a hundred babies and a _wife_ that you grow old and die with!" And each word becomes steadily more fragile and broken, more tears rolling down her cheeks. "I hope it makes you happier than you can stand! I hope it makes you so happy that tired heart of yours kills you!"

That hurt. _Nature's grace_ did that _hurt_ , and the pain is all over Billy's face. But there's no anger, not for her. Because they know she's hurting too, likely ten times more than they are, so they understand and accept it with as much humility as possible. And as much as it would ruin everything they had been trying to accomplish with the conversation, Billy's almost overwhelmed with the need to hold her, comfort her.

For what feels like forever they just look at each other, Tag doing everything not to openly sob in front of them and Billy apparently having run out of anything else to say. Perhaps that's for the better too.

"For what it's worth," they try anyway, "I'm sorry it came to this."

Tag says nothing, her whole body bunching in resistance. Even her eyes screw shut as she shies away like she's wounded.

Clearly there's nothing left to discuss. Fine enough. Billy snorts quietly and starts back towards the airships. They still have a few apologies to make and other matters to attend to. Tag remains where she stands, upright and stable for maybe another minute before she hits her knees and all but buries her head in the sand, hugging herself as she cries and cries and cries.

 

 

Author's Note:  I actually cried a little bit writing that last part, and I'll also admit that the conversation didn't turn out quite the way I expected but I still like it. But just to clarify, Billy wasn't consciously trying to get out of being Tag's Guardian, far from it, it's more that this just so happens to be part of the consequences and it's convenient. No, it's not great, maybe shitty storytelling on my part, but it's what came out and it suits the narrative I have planned out for these two. Next chapter we'll get to meet Pyrrha's family! Stay tuned and I hope you're enjoying the story! And thanks for everyone that comments and reviews, you're always appreciated!

 


	45. Chapter Forty-Four

It's a stretch for the communications equipment on such a small ship to reach as far as Mistral, doubly so for the distance within the kingdom's borders the signal needed to travel even for Atlesian technology. But by the same token, the size of it also warranted the need for several satellite towers in conjunction with the main one in the capital city, making it a simple but time consuming matter of bouncing the signal to its intended destination -which could be almost anywhere, realistically. And, as with anything pliable, the further it stretches, the weaker it tends to be.

Specialist Holiday half slouches in the seat at the communications panel, half a headset pressed to one ear as she waits to be switched from one board to another on the other end. Normally this would be the Com Officer's job, but she insisted on doing it as a courtesy to Mrs. Nikos. Their families went back a ways and she thought it would be better for her to reach out instead of some unfamiliar voice. It had been the same reasoning behind General Ironwood's insistence that she do the same when Pyrrha had been pronounced dead more than a year prior. It hadn't made it any easier for either party, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Every few minutes there would be a click, followed by a usually female voice asking for extensions and receiving parties which Daisy is quick to give. Eventually there is one last click, followed by the long awaited series of dull buzzes to indicate the ringing on the other end. When the connection is made there aren't words right away, just a dull sort of shuffling, like whoever just picked up might be fighting to fish their scroll out of the sheets.

_"Yes?"_ and it isn't exactly a pleasant sounding word, it's full of rough edges and little patience.

"Mrs. Nikos?"

_"...Who is this?"_

"It's Daisy Holiday, ma'am, Doc's daughter?"

_"...Oh. What do you want? You wouldn't just call out of nowhere for nothing,"_

Daisy tenses a little, a part of her wishing she hadn't insisted so hard to do this. "Actually, ma'am, I was hoping you would be willing to meet me."

_"What for? Last I checked Atlas didn't give a damn about me and mine,"_

"Yes, ma'am, about that," Daisy swallows, "I'm a couple days out from you, maybe just a day if I push the pilot and I thought you would prefer speaking with me in person-"

_"Please get on with it."_ comes a biting request.

"Of course, ma'am, my apologies." Daisy takes a breath, mentally bracing. "I have new information on your daughter."

A long, tense silence haunts the line. Then comes a timid, uneasy  _"...W-what?"_

"I would love to tell you everything, but our connection isn't as secure as I would like and this is to be considered highly classified information. To be honest I've already said too much, but considering what you've been put through it's the least I could do. The rest I would much rather divulge in person and in private."

_"Did...did you find something else of hers? Is that what this is, another delivery?"_ there's pain and bitterness now, her voice is breaking.

"I"m sorry, Mrs. Nikos, but I can't tell you much more. Not that I don't want to,"

_"How soon will you be making your way here?"_

"We're making arrangements to take off as we speak, we'll likely be airborne within the hour. If I'm to assume I'll be meeting you on the Rim, I'd imagine it'll take us no more than two days to reach you."

_"Contact me again then and I'll confirm a meeting place."_

"Yes, ma'am, I'll see to it personally. And thank you for-" and Daisy isn't at all shocked or hurt when she just hangs up on her. The specialist shrugs and hangs up the headset where it belongs before standing up with a big, exaggerated stretch. Time to spread the news and get this show back on the road. Or into the air, as the case may be.

Once word gets out the first order of business is to get the proper people on the proper ships as one would be heading back to Vale while the other is meant for northwestern Mistral. Team RWBY is Vale bound along with Glynda, and Yang takes on the task of carefully moving her little sister to the other ship without waking her -the pain is still intense but thankfully the drugs are stronger than that. The now occupied casket had been stored securely in the cargo bay, out of sight and out of mind, leaving the other infirmary bed vacant and waiting. She tucks Ruby in, soothing her with gentle whispers when she stirs and petting her hair until she's quiet again. Even though Glynda, Maab, and the chief medic are present, Yang asks for Blake to stay with Ruby because she's too wary of  _all three_ of the Witches in the room to leave her alone. Her partner agrees without question, letting Yang go about whatever it is she needs to do. In truth the brawler is feeling stir crazy and wants a few more minutes outside before the half day flight back to Vale. That, and "I want to say good-bye to otter-mom." Weiss feels the same and follows her.

There's a small crowd on the beach that increases by one when the girls realize that Maab had followed them out, the small Witch just spiriting around them without a sound and strolling across the sand without paying them any mind. They watch her until she stands beside Rusty, her attention also now fixed on speaking with Jaune. The two young women have the same passing thought at the same time; they never would have guessed Jaune to have the relatives he does.

They spot Tag further along the beach, closer to the second airship and looking diminished and exhausted, her posture appearing to hang. Matt and Elo are with her, the three looking to be caught up in a pseudo serious conversation, judging by the look on the Tortoise Faunus' face. He looks troubled, frustrated, and his thick arms cross his chest as he almost rhythmically shifts on his big feet. The girls try not to eavesdrop, but by Matt's tone he doesn't seem to care if they do or don't.

"I must've scolded that stubborn bull for  _hours_ -felt like days- but it might as well have been months for all the good it did." His head cuts sharply to watch as Elo signs, his silent pack mate's expression resigned. "Yeah, I  _know_ you can't get that old fart to change their mind once they've made it, but by Nature's sweet mercy they're  _wrong_ . All three of us know it -even  _they_ know it but won't own up to it."

"Maybe...maybe it really is for the best." Tag says meekly. "It wouldn't have worked anyway."

"You still your mouth with that talk,  _sistah_ , I won't hear it. You know damn good and well all that gnawing from the elders was superstitious  _junk_ -even Billy's mama says so and  _she is_ elder now. And you never bought it before so don't you go doin' it just because they're bein' an  _ass_ ."

The Spring Maiden's face stretches with quiet shock, her mouth open a bit as if she had meant to counter him but suddenly lost the words. So she just stares at him, stupefied.

Matt stares back for a moment, his frustration softening to sympathy, and he shrugs. "Billy's always taken what life's handed to them because it's easier -it's hard enough just gettin' by so why fight, y'know? Acceptance is just easier. But...I think they know they shouldn't be accepting this...they just don't know what to do with it yet. They don't realize they finally have a choice, and I think that's why they're going with Auntie Witch's girl and those other humans."

Tag feels a little blossom of hope in her heart but she smothers it, she just doesn't have the energy for a let down that size right now. But for a moment, one precious moment, she lets herself dream. "I appreciate the effort, Matt, thank you." then she sighs, still sounding so sad. "I have to get going."

Neither of them want her to go, mostly because they feel like there's more that could be done to mend this rift, but they know this isn't up to them. So they say their goodbyes and offer parting embraces coupled with restrained tears. When they're out of sight she wipes her eyes and sniffles, turning on her heels with the intent of boarding the airship and hiding away in bunk for a few hours. She doesn't expect to stop suddenly with a squeak of surprise when she sees Yang and Weiss standing there. "Oh, girls, I'm sorry I didn't realize you were there. Is everything all right?"

"We're fine," Weiss nods, "we just wanted to see you before we took off."

"Yeah, can't expect us to just leave," Yang smiles, one hip cocked as she props her fist on it.

"Well, thank you. I can't believe I didn't even think about it," she laughs, though it's far from a happy sound. "You must think I'm awful."

"Hardly." Weiss assures her with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Is it true you have a scroll now?"

Tag has to think for a moment, "I do, actually. Glynda gave me a crash course -I think that's the word for it- in how it works, but I'm still a bit slow."

"We can help you," Yang offers.

"Yes, we'd love to have you call us, or we could call you until you're more comfortable with it."

"That's very sweet of you, girls, but I don't see how we could have anything to talk about." Tag is shaking her head, like she's shyly declining the offer and not willing to face their disapproval.

But Weiss isn't buying it. "That's beside the point."

"Yeah," Yang continues, "just checking in on one another is enough, isn't it? Keeping in touch is important even if it's just to make sure we're all okay."

"...It doesn't feel right."

"Why not?"

"It's just...I feel responsible. My Guardian almost took a friend from you and...I should've,"

"We're not going to blame you for Billy's bad choices." Weiss has turned on a bit of her heiress tone, her chin lifting slightly as her back straightens. " _I_ certainly won't," because it would make her a bit of a hypocrite, considering what her father was like and how she had often been the target of criticism meant for him.

"Me neither." Yang shakes her head, her messy ponytail tossing back and forth. "It's not up to you to take punishment for them, and I'd say you've swallowed enough heartache from that mess anyhow."

The Faunus finds it in her to smile a little, finally accepting. "Thank you. But yes...I think I'd like for the three of us to...stay in touch, as you put it. Although...could you do something for me?"

"What do you need?"

"Glynda has asked me that I keep contact with her too, particularly in regards to Pyrrha. We've come to an agreement but I'm still concerned, so would you be willing to just -I don't know- just keep an eye on her? I hate being suspicious of people that are supposed to be helping us, but,"

"So do we, but Glynda has shown her hand and we have every reason to be cautious." Weiss assures her in a matter of fact sort of way. "Do Jaune and the others know about this arrangement?"

"Yes, but I would hope that you keep this between you two, perhaps Blake as well if you feel it appropriate."

"We've got you covered on this end, otter-mom, no worries. Now gimme a hug," Yang barely gets both arms up and open before Tag closes the gap between them in a split second, both arms around her solid waist and squeezing. A puff of air escapes in a little laugh and she returns the gesture in kind, having to hug the Faunus' shoulders since she's a bit shorter. Tag is mentally praying she isn't overstepping some boundary with Yang's touch-sensitivity, because she's just so starved for physical comfort and reassurance she can't help herself.

Tag grabs up on Weiss almost as quickly and her heart pricks when she feels the Winter Maiden's grip tighten around her in response, a magical chill pulling goosebumps over her skin.

"I mean it, feel free to call me any time. I want you to."

"I'll try." Tag chokes down a sob. "Take care of each other, alright? And," she takes a breath and steps back, "and make sure Billy eats, please? A-and don't let them over do it too much, their heart, you know, and...and,"

Weiss knows she's about to cry and doesn't know if she could bare that without getting teary herself. "We'll do our best, we promise."

"I'm gonna give 'em shit while I'm at it," Yang admits frankly, Weiss' scathing glare seeming to glance right off of her, "but yeah. We'll try."

"Thank you." Tag sniffles, then pulls them both in by one arm into one more embrace. She'll give each of them a kiss on the cheek before letting go. "I love you girls, and good luck."

"Don't act like this is forever," Yang grouses, but fails to come off as anything but bleary-eyed. "We'll see each other again. Come on, Weiss, or they'll take off without us."

"Alright." But she doesn't really want to go, suddenly all she wants is to stay and just be held. One more hug won't hurt. 

Tag will watch them go until they disappear aboard the ship, hating every second of it. Her eyes thin against the sand that's kicked up as the ship's engines roar to life. The craft steadily lifts into the air and begins to drift over the water, easing out several yards before there's another surge of sound from the ship's heart that's sends it speeding towards the northwestern horizon, the ocean beneath it churning white in its wake. She'll watch it until the metallic flicker of its hull in the sunlight disappears. Suddenly she feels so very alone.

"Hey,"

The soft voice doesn't startle her and she's slow to turn and address it, finding Jaune behind her. He looks so much more familiar now that he has his armor on and his sword on his hip again, but still without his hoodie he looks unnatural in a way.

"Suppose it's time to go?"

"We've got our heading, so yeah." he nods once and watches her almost mimic the gesture. "Tag?"

"Hm?" she manages to look up at him, hoping her eyes still aren't red.

"I just...thank you." he had everything but a speech planned, but it all just fizzles like bubbles brought in on the tide. "You've done so much for us...and you're paying for it, and I'm sorry for that."

"No, no, don't, it's all right. You don't have to-," because she just wants to hide now and forget about the world for a while.

"Yes I do." he insists gently, almost brotherly. "I want you to know that whatever you need, whatever I can do,  _anything_ , just ask and I'll do it."

She wants to say thank you, she wants to show him all the gratitude she knows she should, but she just doesn't have it in her. The last twenty-four hours have just been too damn long and too cruel and she's tired. So she just casts her eyes down and nods, making a noise she certainly intended to be words but just didn't make it.

Jaune accepts it all the same and follows just behind her when she begins to walk towards and consequently boards the ship. Within the next minute the ship's engines spring to life and lift the craft into the sky, and in the minute after that it speeds off to the north, towards Mistral. More specifically, a town called Ithica.

 

Pyrrha drifts in and out of a dreamless, dragging sleep, partly because of pockets of turbulence rattling the ship and partly because her stomach won't stop griping. It isn't so much that she feels hungry as the medic had her hooked up to intravenous nourishment just until she's strong enough to eat something solid, but that her guts feel terribly  _empty_ . But, like the jarring turbulence, she's able to brush it off and fall back to sleep for the most part.

She knows her teammates come and go, sometimes by sound and other times by touch. When she's only somewhat awake she can make out their footsteps, knowing each of them distinctly from one another, having remembered them from countless late nights and early mornings at Beacon listening to them shuffle about. Nora's steps have always been light, like she walks on the balls of her feet constantly -and that isn't far from the truth. And if Pyrrha doesn't hear her, she can feel her, a strangely warm static that her body reaches out for in an instinctive need to catch that heat. Thankfully, whenever Nora visits she's bound to put a hand on her somehow and Pyrrha takes in the warmth straight from the source. It's comforting and puts her back to sleep in an instant. She vaguely remembers Nora talking, too, something about "sorry I punched you in the face."

Ren is all but silent when he walks, so Pyrrha more so senses his presence. He comes frequently, in a pattern you could set a watch by, but he doesn't stay long. An hour at most. He isn't as physically attentive as Nora, either, his taking up space nearby being his way of showing he was available if she needed him. If she happened to open her eyes and he noticed, he'd give her the smallest of smiles and little else.

Jaune is a strange mixture of the other two. He tries to move quietly in spite of what she remembers about him -that is, he was far less graceful- and he'll sit for hours at time. Sometimes he sits on the edge of the cramped bed and talks, regardless of whether she's conscious enough to hear, and other times he still sits but just holds her hand silently while his thumb traces circles on her knuckles. Another physically soothing gesture that helps her sleep a little deeper.

Because that's all her brain wants now that it can get it; even more than food and warmth, it needs peace and sleep.

Pyrrha never notices the one time Tag visits throughout the duration of the flight, doesn't feel her arrive or leave, but something inside of her responds to the pulse of magic being pumped through her body while the Faunus stays for a spell. Like a cat to a popping fireplace a part of her turns towards the energy and tries to wrap itself around it and greedily drink it in. 

She remembers Tag more so by face than name or as a Maiden, and she remembers her from longer ago than just days before. Pyrrha considers a less focused, foggier memory of a village in flames and guns and the cries of dying children. She remembers Tag and three other Faunus without an ounce of metal on them trying to kill her. And she remembers the tearing pain of a flint knife in her lower back. The memory sparks into another like a shorted fuse on a weary circuit, and for a moment her thoughts linger on Beacon and a white hot arrow in her chest. Then nothing as sleep pulls her down too deep to think.

She'll come around again many hours later, though it doesn't feel like that long to her. She still feels exhausted, like gravity wants to pull her right through the floor and she would oblige it if it tried. Pyrrha tries to speak in response to the somewhat distant sound of her name but coughs instead with a painful wince as her ribs and throat resist.

"Whoa, take it easy," it's Jaune and his tone is just above a whisper. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Pyrrha shakes her head stiffly, both hands moving in a dismissive wave as the coughing stills. Before he can say another word she's signing, holding up three fingers and tapping them twice against her lips. For a second Jaune just stares, his mind likely blank as it reaches for understanding.

"Wait...you want some water?" he smiles with a hint of pride when she nods. "Okay, I'll be right back." The chief medic keeps bottles of it at his station so Jaune doesn't have to go far or put forth much effort to fill her request. Jaune offers to hold it for her if she needs him to, only a little disappointed when she shakes her head and takes the plastic bottle in both hands. "At least let me help you sit up."

Pyrrha relents, letting the bottle rest on her stomach while she grabs hold of his arm and a fistful of his shirt as he braces her back with his arm to push her up. When her center of gravity shifts she slumps forward, tucking into his chest as her chin finds the top of his shoulder to rest on. She pants through flared nostrils, her exhaustion rearing its head again.

"It's okay, take it slow." Jaune soothes, his hand smoothing down her back. The reality of all this is settling on him again; the solidity of her weight and the light rhythm of her heart beneath his hand, the sound of her breathing, the scent of her that's a sour mixture of sweat, dirt, blood, and ash, they're all clear signs that this is indeed happening and that he's got his arms around her and she's leaning on him for support. So much is going through his mind that it's little more than a blur of questions and superstition. But all of that can wait for later. "We landed about a half hour ago."

She nods slowly in acknowledgment.

"Specialist Holiday got in touch with your mom and she should be here pretty soon." He gets a little optimistic when he thinks he hears a little hum. "Do you need help opening the bottle?"

Jaune feels her leaning back and does the same, not too quickly or too far away, giving her a chance to open it herself. Her hands shake as she tries once, twice, three times without success, and she has to stop because even that is almost too much work. He gently offers his help once more, glad she relents, but he won't take the bottle from her entirely. His hand braces one of hers as he twists off the cap, lingering almost too long. Her skin feels cool to the touch, and it seems like only now does he accept that she really has claws, that the blackness reaches into her hands and not just her face.

"Sorry." and he retreats when he feels like he's overstepped some boundary. Pyrrha signs with her free hand, a shape he loosely recognizes as "okay" and assumes she's excusing him. Jaune continues to watch her as she puts both hands on the bottle again and tries raising it to her mouth. She still shakes under its weight, and he can see her brow knitting steadily as she exerts as much effort as she's able. He's just about to help when she finally gets it to her lips, spilling just a few drops as she takes the smallest of mouthfuls in a steady rhythm. Part of him wishes she would have let him help, but he pushes the thought down with the greater contentment he feels in just being in her presence.

Pyrrha draws from the bottle until it's half empty, panting a little as she lets her hands drop into her lap.

"Do you want to lie back down?"

She waits to answer until she's managed the cap back on the bottle, setting it aside as she grips his shirt again and nods. Comfort settles in as soon as her head hits the pillow, the weight of the world settling back onto her body in a way that feels familiar, a way that her brain can better cope with, and she watches him with fluttering eyelids as he fusses over her. He all but tucks her in, asking if she's warm enough -though part of her is convinced she'll never feel warm enough again- or if she needs something else. To all of it she just shakes her head, liking the idea of a little more sleep.

Jaune thinks to keep talking, unconsciously wanting to keep her awake and reacting to him, but he thinks again because he can tell she's still so tired. He doesn't want to be selfish so he keeps quiet. Maybe there would be time later, but later seems like so long when you have so much to say. So many apologies to make.

Instead he just holds her hand, waiting to see if she'll refuse the gesture before tracing circles on her knuckles with his thumb.

 

Daisy waits just outside the ship, ankle deep in winter withered grass. She unconsciously spies the movement of her own shadow at her feet as she taps the ashes from the end of her cigarette, the light cast from the single floodlight blazing down on her from atop the airship. Both her daddy and Winter hate that she smokes, but she's trying to quit and it's helping ease her little anxiety. Sharpshooters got to stay calm, after all.

She can see Ithica from here, at least the lights of her various ports on this bend of the Rim as well as the rough looking cap of the island amidst the inland sea though they've landed more than half a mile away. This early in the evening at this time of year makes it easier. Part of her wonders why so far out, another part doesn't think it really matters. The ball is in Mrs. Nikos' court, and after what she's had to deal with Daisy wasn't willing to fight her over trivial things like this. The specialist taps her cigarette again, deciding to put it out, and then checks her watch. It's been almost an hour...she should be here any minute. And no sooner does the thought leave her mind that she picks up on a particular sound in the still darkness that's closing in from the south, the distinct rattle of leather and metal -a horse's bridle and barding. A blue roan mare and its rider come out from a copse of trees into the glow of the floodlight, Daisy straightens her posture to stand almost at attention -mostly out of habit but in part out of respect.

Rhea Nikos is by no means a celebrity, not outside of Ithica like her daughter, but those that had only ever been in her presence would swear to the contrary. Even atop her horse in a side-saddle pose she carries herself as regally as any monarch that ever lived, and her sable and gold clothes and bronze armor only adds to her quiet majesty. A long, pristine plait of jet black hair can just been seen resting over one shoulder, a hood concealing the rest of her face until after she dismounts with practiced ease and grace. Rhea takes a moment to sooth her horse as she snorts and tosses her head, the huntress keeping a firm grip on the reins when she begins approaching the ship on foot. It's only now that Rhea directly acknowledges Daisy's presence, resolutely setting her gaze on the specialist with one staggeringly emerald hued iris, the other eyes is wholly concealed by what looks like soft, embroidered leather.

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Mrs. Nikos." Daisy tips her chin. "It's good to see you."

The older woman eases to a stop. "As much as I would like to say the feeling is mutual, it would be far less pleasant to lie to you. How is your father?"

"Last I spoke to him he was all right. And I appreciate the thought, but I know small talk isn't really on your mind."

"You'd be correct. Will this take long?"

"Possibly. I'd like for you to come inside so we can talk, if that's acceptable. I can fetch someone to watch your horse."

Rhea takes a breath, sounding inconvenienced. "Very well."

"And it's just you?"

"The others are finishing up a job." is all she says and all Daisy needs to accept.

Once inside and in better light, it's much easier to see just how imposing Rhea can be just by existing in a space. She's above average height, half a head taller than Daisy who is by no means short, and her frame is lithe looking but so very solid beneath the linen and bronze she wears. With her hood drawn back the light of the corridor catches in flawlessly kept hair that has yet to see a touch of gray in spite of her being nearly fifty. Her skin has a certain uncanny youth to it as well, rich and red and outstandingly beautiful. Anyone who didn't know her at any length wouldn't know she is a huntress on looks alone, but if they chanced to see the few scars and the tiredness around her one eye the change in their mind would be immediate.

"So what did you find?" Rhea exhales. "Something else for me to put on a mantle?"

Daisy tenses, thinking. "It's...a bit more than that, ma'am."

Her breath hitches, chest clenching. "...Remains then?" Because if it was anything else surely she would just say so.

"Well, to say the least...it's complicated."

Rhea laughs bitterly. Well, whatever it is that Specialist Holiday called her here for, surely she's ready for it. She's certain of it, that is, until Daisy leads her to the infirmary and the door slides open, until she fully comprehends exactly what she's looking at. Turns out she isn't ready at all.

Since Daisy first called her she had braced her heart and soul for the worst. Something in the back of her mind had been telling her that this was it, this is when they finally produce the body and she will have to bury it along with the little hope she had been holding onto that it just wasn't true. Rhea had been ready to see a  _body_ -as much as an already grieving mother could be. But she wasn't ready for  _this_ . It feels like every ounce of blood pools around her heart and then drops into her feet, leaving the rest of her cold and unstable. She can barely breathe, and what little air she captures comes in too little and noisy bursts as it passes through her cinching throat. Tears are filling her eye, hotly obscuring the scene of her only child lying in a bed and hooked up to seemingly countless machines. She's alive. Gods above, she is  _alive_ , and Rhea's fixated obsessively on the slow movements of Pyrrha's chest as she breathes, just to be sure. It's all she sees, the young man at her daughter's bedside doesn't even exist as far as she's aware.

Rhea looks to be trying to speak, bleary eye wide as her jaw works but no words emerge, and she finally gives up to cover her mouth with one hand against a strange, choking noise. After a moment her blood is back in her body and she feels warm again, her lungs start working right. "W-wha...I jus-...is she,"

"She's been in and out for the last two days, but she's mostly responsive when she's awake. From what I can tell her memory is at least somewhat intact; she remembers her name, where she lives, she recognizes her teammates too, and she still knows how to sign because talking is too painful for her right now."

Rhea looks at Daisy with hurt confusion, her mind spinning with terrible reasons as to why her daughter is in such a state. As long as she had been gone...it could be anything -something else Rhea may or may not be ready for. A heavy tear rolls down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away, sniffling. "I-I was right. All these months. I was  _right_ . I said she was  _missing_ and  _I was right_ ." But then her manner suddenly shifts from shock to something like anger. "Did you know? Did Atlas know where she was?"

"No, ma'am, I swear," Daisy answers quickly, taking on a slightly submissive posture out of reflex. She knows Rhea could tear this place apart in a Mistrali minute if she had enough reason to, and there wasn't a thing anyone could do to stop her. "If I'd had any suspicion at all that we did, I would have found a way to contact you, you know I would have. I don't love my post so much that I'd do you dirty like that and daddy would kill me. All I know for certain is that the general was having the matter investigated but on the hush-hush, and with support from individuals outside the military."

Rhea wants to believe her, gods above does she want to believe, but she's been so cynical for so long -what feels like ages- that she just can't let go of the idea that even Daisy might lie to her. For a moment she just glares at the girl, thinking, wondering if there is a way she could badger the truth out of her. Unless of course the truth is what she was getting, and in that case, there is nothing she could do to make a Holiday tell her any different.

"I'm sure you're expecting an explanation." Daisy says softly, cautiously. "That's an awful long story which I hope you don't mind waiting to hear since the few of us that really understand it are probably asleep. Plus I figured you'd want  _this_ more than anything, hence why I invited you to stay a while."

The older woman eventually takes a breath, resignation settling in as she exhales. For the moment, it is what it is and she has to take it as such. So be it. And the more she thinks about it like that, the easier it is for her to push it down and focus on the only thing that matters.

"C-can I," already she sounds calmer, "could I try to talk to her?"

"I suppose you could, but don't expect her to stay awake long."

Rhea just nods, again just trying to accept things as they are. "...Thank you, Daisy. I'm sorry I was so awful with you."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Nikos, I don't hold it against you." she smiles and dips her chin. "I suppose I'll give you a minute." and then she looks to Jaune and catches his attention with a wave of her hand. He looks a little confused, doe in the headlights, so she gestures in no uncertain terms for him to follow her out. He's quick to comply, giving Rhea a wide berth because he doesn't know what else to do in regards to her. Part of him feels like he needs to introduce himself, but a bigger part of him feels like a helpless little rabbit in the presence something much too massive and vicious for him to even chance looking directly at it, much less speak up.

Rhea has to make a conscious effort to move her feet because it feels like trying to lift the world when she attempts her first step towards the bed, and for a moment her focus is split between Pyrrha and the almost deafening sound of her own footsteps. Finally she gets there and she's weighed down with an uncharacteristic urge to just break down and weep, caught perilously between joy and relief and a certain fury at seeing her like this. Somehow she manages to sit on the edge of the bed, her hip resting against Pyrrha's leg enough to jar the older huntress a little. She's real, a part of her simply having refused to believe it until now. Rhea keeps her focus on Pyrrha's sleeping face as she takes her daughter's hand, hoping and against hope that there would be some sort of response. She doesn't care about her unnatural pallor or the smoky blackness in her skin, she doesn't care about the little scars or the claws she feels against her hand; all she wants is for Pyrrha to acknowledge her, even if it's something small. Just that would be enough.

"P-Pyrrha," she tries, but the word sounds choked and she has to clear her throat to loosen it up. "Pyrrha, it's me...it's momma." she's starting to cry again. "C-could you just...just let me know you can hear me."

Pyrrha's fingers gently flex around her mother's hand, not really grasping but trying, and her eyelids flutter in an effort to open. Rhea stifles an already quiet gasp when irises that match her own dimly catch the light and focus on her.

"Gods above," Rhea breathes, a quivering smile pulling on her mouth as she presses Pyrrha's palm to her cheek. "Please tell me you remember me,"

Pyrrha slowly moves her other hand towards her own face, fanning all her fingers out and touching the pad of her thumb to her chin for all of two seconds before pulling it away, signing "mother" as clearly as she was able. Now Rhea can't stop the tears or the sobbing, both of which she does for several moments as she holds onto Pyrrha's hand for dear life.

"I missed you so much, we all missed you." every word is a small fight to form, but she manages. "They all tried to convince me you were dead, but I knew better. I  _knew_ it, I knew they were wrong and here you are. You're home."

Pyrrha begins to sign again and Rhea hangs on every movement of her hand, the tearful joy ebbing from her face as she translates the shapes. Confusion creeps in initially, and then is quickly replaced with an uncertain horror as Pyrrha repeats herself.

_But I was dead._

 

 

Author's Note: There will be more of Pyrrha's family next chapter, don't worry. I've also gotten a couple comments asking about Pyrrha's memory, which, as you can see, is more intact than I might have led you to believe, which is something that will also be given more attention in coming chapters. As it stands, I'm fairly confident this story is going to break/almost break sixty chapters, which will be a new record for me. Even if it doesn't, I'll still be proud of it.

On another note, I don't know when the next chapter will be out because I'm situated right in the middle of Hurricane Irma's projected path. It's highly likely I'll be without power so I can't say with any confidence when I'll be posting next. In any case, hope you enjoy it and please keep the comments coming, they're always appreciated and I read each of them even if I don't respond.

 


	46. Chapter Forty-Five

When the airship arrived in Vale, that is the capital city, arrangements were already in place for them to land at the nearest hospital. Though their situation wasn't classified as an emergency, a collection of hospital personnel were waiting on the helipad, ready to administer care to any on board who required it. Salem is immediately taken to surgery while Ruby is carted off to an examination room so that her still livid wound could be looked into more closely.

The reconstruction of Salem's shoulder took nearly twelve hours, and even after all that her attending surgeon wasn't too sure how full her recovery would be. The injury was severe, if she ever had full use of it again he would consider it a miracle. Healing would take weeks if not months, longer still, he assumes, as their instruments hadn't picked up any trace of the Witch's aura throughout the arduous procedure.

Once the proper amount of time had passed for Salem's body to recover from the anesthesia -typically patients woke up once they had metabolized the powerful drugs, but that wasn't the case this time- a whole battery of tests was ordered to determine her overall health. They all came back negative for a variety of injuries and illnesses, clear of anything that could explain why Salem had yet to wake or react to anyone. Twice her brain was given a complete scan only to come back completely normal. No one could explain it, though that didn't keep Glynda from having her own theories; not that she was about to share them with a host of none-the-wiser doctors.

Ruby's case, on the other hand, is just as baffling but for an entirely different reason. Her doctor was already suspicious when she heard a young, previously healthy huntress couldn't sort out even a serious laceration on her own over the course of a couple of days, while her other superficial injuries had resolved per the usual. When she removed the bandages and observed the wound for herself the shock is enough to make the woman swear in her native tongue -born and raised in Vacuo's interior, no one had a clue as to what she actually said.

The initial cuts across Ruby's side intersected at the middle, making a lopsided X above her hip and just below the last of her ribs. They showed absolutely no evidence of trying to heal and had gone pitch black. While the doctor's first thought was to declare necrosis, she had to stop when none of the other symptoms added up. Ruby was sweating purely from the pain, not a fever produced as her body's defense mechanism. There wasn't any bruising around the wound which was common, instead her skin had clouded up like droplets of black ink on a piece of paper. Instead of discolored seepage and swollen flesh, there looked to be a glossy black mass where the skin had been separated. Safe to say the doctor had never seen or heard of anything like this and was at a loss. For the time being all she could think to do was anything that made Ruby as comfortable as possible, and that meant stouter drugs and aura stimulants in hopes of her body possibly having the solution she didn't. Again, even regarding this, Glynda had her theories but wouldn't say so aloud.

All this was nearly two days ago and little had changed since.

Qrow came with Taiyang the day following their return from Menagerie, but only Tai would stay while the remaining Branwen went back on his rounds in search of Cinder, now with what looked to be a new sense of urgency. He had convinced Blake and Weiss to go with him, knowing finding the Fall Maiden might be somewhat easier with two of her kind on the lookout for her. That and Weiss looked about ready to worry herself to death; getting out and doing something productive was probably for the best. Billy had offered to help with the search, but was convinced to hang back in case Cinder somehow knew where to come looking to pick a fight. Part of them wondered briefly if that was the real reason, or just what they could think of to say instead of _we don't need a Maidenless Guardian_.

Yang and her father would stay with Ruby and worry over her together.

Now it's nearly nightfall of that second day, snow beginning to descend on the city as Glynda steps out of the air ship and turns the collar of her coat up. She's just returned from the manor, having finally interred Ozpin's remains in the crypt beneath the house. The airship quickly lifts off again and pulls away, leaving her to walk the sidewalk to the front of the hospital. She spies a head of wild golden hair among the flagstones just outside the entrance and thinks to quicken her steps. She senses something she may or may not be ready for and she would sooner avoid it.

"What's the hurry, Goodwitch?" Yang asks, making sure her voice is loud enough so she doesn't have to turn her head. That and she doesn't want Glynda to catch her smoking because she isn't in the mood for the lecture Blake and Weiss weren't around to give.

"It's cold." she responds quickly.

"Is Winter coming back or is she gone for good?"

Glynda forces herself to stop, her knee-jerk propriety working against her. "She was given orders to return to the nearest outpost and report to General Ironwood. I'd imagine she'll remain there until further notice."

Yang nods, surprised not to hear Glynda walking on as she takes the last long drag of her cigarette before tossing it away. "Guess she'll tell him about Ruby?"

"She won't have to." there's zero hesitation though she knows what the admission might start. "I've taken the liberty of informing the general of the current situation. I suppose Specialist Schnee will be filling him in more so on the events in Menagerie since he didn't ask me."

Yang turns casually, not wanting to give away the wary burn she feels in her stomach. Glynda can feel her instincts bristling, like she should be ready to bolt. She takes a breath and swallows, shivering a bit. "Miss Xiaolong,"

"I hope you're not going to try and get Ruby taken away from us, Goodwitch. I honest-to-gods hope that's not what your angle is."

Now she shrugs, her brow knitting. "I doubt you'll believe me, but I assure you that it isn't. This may come as a shock to you, Miss Xiaolong, but it _isn't_ my _sole mission_ to _ruin_ anyone's life. The general, Mr. Branwen, myself, and...Ozpin," gods, why was his name so hard to say now "never set out on this...whatever you want to call it, only to do harm. We're doing the best we know how, and in order to do that we have to share information."

"And what's stopping Ironwood from swooping in here with his fleet?"

" _I am_." Now Glynda faces her, meeting the crimson tinged lavender of Yang's heavy gaze with resilient jade.

Yang looks unconvinced, though in her mind she's weighing the words honestly. She isn't sure if she believes it all just yet, but it rings with a bit of truth. "So what did you tell him?"

"I insisted that Miss Rose's condition is much too fragile for any major action, which isn't a lie. Until we know more about what is going on with her I'll be damned if I see her moved -I can _and will_ get the royal council to issue a security detail for her if I have to. And the same goes for Salem until her condition changes. The two are intrinsically linked to the events that are at risk of unfolding -a risk that is frighteningly likely to occur- and I won't stand to have them compromised."

Yang's thinking it over again, though now with a mote of pleased surprise. Sure, she's still thinking like Glynda Goodwitch always does -for the greater good, whatever it takes and so on- but now there's a certain sincerity in her voice that's almost convincing. "What else?"

"I did my best to persuade him that the Spring Maiden was our best chance at a solution, at the very least our best chance to gather information, and that once she was available I would have her address the matter. Mind you, I made no promises as to when that would be since she's tending to Miss Nikos for the time being. Now," Glynda tucks her chin and firms her jaw, "could you lot _please_ stop brow beating me? I am well aware of the limitations that you and Team JNPR have put on me and your uncle and I have made an effort to accept them as they are. I'm trying to cooperate with you, but you're making it next to impossible. I'm more than willing to work within the boundaries you and the others have set, _but I have to be allowed to_."

Yang blinks back at her for a moment, somewhat surprised and yet not at the same time. There was a damn good reason why she was a professor at Beacon, but maybe Yang had just forgotten up until now. "But can you really blame us? Really? You guys basically threw _your_ mess in _our_ laps and got pissy when we didn't clean it up the way you wanted."

"I'm aware of that. I'm not trying to excuse anything we've done or anything our actions have allowed to happen; I'm just trying to show you that it was never our intention. _We want to set all this right_."

"But is that even possible at this point?" the brawler pauses long enough to look around, make sure no one else is listening. "Grimm are finding their way _inside of people_ , how the hell do you 'put right' something like that? What if it _spreads_?"

"That's what we're trying to do, Miss Xiaolong, we're trying to find a way to stop it, but that won't happen if we keep looking over our shoulders at one another."

And that was the crux of the matter, Yang knows it. Sometimes you just feel when the right words come together as they have right now. She's right, as much as Yang might not like it. "I'm not saying I trust you, not completely anyway,"

"I would be concerned if you did," Glynda interjects, one brow lifted.

"Fair enough," a little chuckle. "And while _I_ _might_ not always be checking your P's and Q's, you know Weiss and Blake will be. If you want that to change you have to take that up with them."

"I gathered as much." she exhales, feeling her bristling senses lax a little. "Now may I go inside? This weather isn't particularly my favorite."

"I don't know," Yang cocks her head and smirks, "it's kinda funny watching your nose turn red like that reindeer," Then she laughs when Glynda scowls harder than she's ever seen before. "Alright, alright, don't bend your broomstick over it. Let's go."

 

_(II)_

Rhea would get her explanation, but no sooner than she asks for it. As far as she is concerned it could wait, all she wants is to take her daughter home and let everything else come in its own time. Daisy doesn't have room to really argue, and neither does the chief medic considering his most recent exam yielded nothing that required Pyrrha to remain under his care. She is still severely exhausted, and her food intake needed to be strictly controlled until her body could handle the seemingly simple strain of digestion, but these are both things that could certainly be maintained by her family. He'll make sure to verse Mrs. Nikos and Tag both on the best routine to keep her recovery on track.

Daisy offers to fly them into town, she knew Rhea's home was on the outskirts with ample room to land, but Rhea declines. She insists she doesn't need her neighbors rubber-necking from a half a mile away over an airship in her back yard. Fair enough. That, and it would be a terrible inconvenience for Rhea's partners who would be here within the hour to collect them. Likely sooner, as they were sure to be traveling fast because they knew who was waiting for them.

The interim is awkward for the younger hunters of the group. As much as they want to be near Pyrrha, all three of them feel like it's no longer their place to do so. Rhea puts off a potent air of a lioness protecting her offspring though she has yet to give them more than a passing glance, and they aren't about to try against their own instincts to keep their distance. And the sensation doesn't ease after Rhea finds out that they are her teammates, or after she admits to vaguely remembering hearing about them before. In fact it won't ease for some time, the young hunters knowing that will only change on Mrs. Nikos' terms.

It's roughly noon when the other members of Rhea's team arrive, two more women on horseback with armor clattering under winter coats. It's almost uncanny how the mounts and their riders resemble one another; one horse is lean and sleek, its jet coat glistening with sliver streaks. The rider is much the same, and though her frame is mostly concealed by leather and furs, her hands are sinewy but slim, and her skin is so richly darkened that it's black until sunlight hits it to reveal a highlight of warm sepia-brown. What little of her face that's visible are striking white irises and bold, golden tattoos imprinted on the high bends of her cheekbones.

The other horse is a massive bay roan with a black speckled rump not much taller from hoof to forehead as the average human, but it more than makes up for that in exceptional girth. A small child could effortlessly hide behind the breadth of one of its legs, especially the rear ones, and the hooves beneath the bristles of charcoal fringe are easily the size of dinner plates. The dimensions of its hefty torso more resemble an automobile than an animal. Just as the rider appears more like a giant than a human at a glance.

Though not human either, but Faunus as marked by the pricked ears and her long, luxurious tail that coils her waist and rests across her thigh -it's gray and white and covered in a collection of black and tan rosettes. She's tall, long in both the legs and in the trunk and built just as robustly as her horse. Her saddle is custom made, allowing her to recline to lessen the risk of her feet getting caught in the animal's strides. Her arms are bare and enormous, her biceps jumping under pale, freckled skin, the bits of red forming solid clouds in some places. They're all over her, like the rosettes on her tail, though the spots break up as they splash across round and rosy cheeks, framing aquamarine eyes. Her naturally gray hair is short, a precise undercut -putting her powerful neck and shoulders on display- and what's left of it long is dyed to match her eyes.

In spite of their differing proportions, both huntresses quickly and easily dismount their horses. The Faunus drops the reins and immediately heads for the airship, but her other partner doesn't seem to mind picking them up for her as she follows behind in less of a rush. Daisy is waiting to meet them and almost immediately the larger huntress bombards her with a flurry of hand gestures, signing as fast as she can in confidence that Daisy can keep up. She can, and she responds in kind with a look of assurance before gesturing for her to step aboard. No hesitation on the Faunus' part, and in her rush the ship groans a little under her weight.

"How is Rhea?"

Daisy's head snaps to the other huntress, now standing among all three horses who have filed themselves in a line. "She's...well, she's being a mother."

"So she's fine?" a husky chuckle.

Daisy tilts her head. "I thought you'd be a bit anxious too, Thana."

"Cybele says we shouldn't worry about absolutes since there's no changing what already is." and the idiom has a certain rhythm to it, well practiced and drawn from memory. "Though, to be truthful, Haeda and I rode all night. We tried to sleep but it just wasn't possible."

" _That_ I'll believe. You want me to get you lot some coffee or something before you head home? You can take it with you,"

"We'll see, but thank you for the offer all the same." the older woman smiles. "I suppose it's all right to leave them here?"

"Of course. I imagine you folks will be moving on shortly, so I can watch them. It's good to see you again, by the way, just wish it was under better circumstances."

Thana smiles a little wider. "What could be better than a homecoming?"

 

Inside the ship Haeda has to hunch as she makes her way through the craft's cramped innards -it's the sole reason why she hates the damn things, they're never big enough for her. To make it worse, she doesn't actually know where she's supposed to go, she's much too caught up with the ends to consider the means. Thankfully she'll spot Rhea in the corridor ahead, waving her down before she can make a wrong turn. She hurries as best she can to reach Rhea, her hands starting to move once she's close enough. Rhea answers with her mouth, knowing Haeda can read lips, because she simply doesn't have the presence of mind to speak with her hands after a night of zero sleep.

"Yes, we're taking her home today and we'll be leaving shortly, but we'll have guests for a while."

Haeda's tail twitches behind her, her silvery brows up with curious attention. Then she puts one thumb to her chin, her other fingers curled almost into a fist, and lifts her index finger with an inquisitive face.

"They're Pyrrha's team from school, I don't know what she told you about them, but they're here all the same. And there's one other, she's been taking care of Pyrrha though I don't have much of an idea as to who she _really_ is. There's something about her I'm just not sure of yet...stick close to her and see if you can learn anything."

Haeda just nods, then her once curious expressions turns to a sort of begging. Rhea understands and steps aside to let her partner pass. She lingers there and watches Haeda cross the infirmary floor in only a few strides, noticing how high her tail is set all of a sudden. The highest it's been in months. She's happy.

Pyrrha is sitting up in bed on her own power, no pile of pillows helping support her as the chief medic carefully and systematically unplugs her from the various machines she's been sharing her body with. Her head hangs, her eyes drifting open and close -she isn't so much falling asleep as she is simply forgoing the effort to keep her eyes open until she has to. The punctuated vibrations of Haeda's heavy footsteps convince her to shoulder the burden for a moment or two, knowing the older huntress would appreciate it. Haeda's immense frame closes around her, secure but gentle, with complete disregard to the medic's frantic cautioning. He tries to pry the Faunus' arms loose only to be carefully swatted away.

Even though physical contact is still abrasive, Pyrrha tolerates it because Haeda is so very warm. She always has been and Pyrrha's drinking it in as she does with everyone else. When the Faunus pulls back she cranes her neck to try and look Pyrrha in the eye, smiling just a little when the young woman lifts her head. Haeda's smile grows to show small fangs as she reaches back and grabs her tail to pull around and lay it in Pyrrha's hands, a brief chuckle as she watches her start to pet the plush fur. Pyrrha remembers; this was for them, she was the only one ever allowed to play with Haeda's tail.

Rhea lets this carry on for as long as it takes her to update Thana on the situation, after which she starts pressuring the medic on duty to let them leave. He offers up little resistance, finishing his final exam before making Pyrrha's release official. He assures them if anything comes up that they can reach him through Specialist Holiday, advice they only partly seem to heed -it's obvious they just want to leave and he respects that. In one last attempt to be helpful he gives them leave to take all the blankets with them, although as they swaddle her up he has the distinct feeling that they would've taken them anyway.

Outside the ship the others are already waiting, their attention mostly occupied with the horses. Jaune feels a little homesick as he pats the blue roan's side softly, smiling to himself as he thinks of his family. Ren appears indifferent, keeping his distance, but more so enjoying watching Nora fawn over them as if they weren't massive animals ranging in the hundreds of pounds each, but more like extra large puppies. She pets them and talks to them in a high pitch cooing voice, though they don't appear to notice her. All that comes to a halt when Rhea and the others emerge, Haeda bringing up the rear with Pyrrha in her arms.

"I'll be stationed at the outpost on the north bend of the Rim," Daisy says loud enough for all of them to hear, as she is addressing them collectively, "so if any of you need anything, you can have Miss Tag contact me directly on her scroll."

"Doesn't the general have more important tasks for you other than waiting on us?" Rhea lifts one brow.

"This is my assignment until further notice, Mrs. Nikos, as handed down by Ironwood personally. I'm on indefinite standby."

"Why?" suspicion twists her face in no uncertain way.

"You'll understand once the lot of you have a sit down to talk this out."

That doesn't appear to appease her at all, still she accepts the answer. "Well, if that's the case, perhaps you could convince your general to reinstate my hunter's visa; there's an entire kingdom plus a portion of the Rim I'm not allowed to travel through even for work."

"Well," Thana interjects, "maybe you shouldn't have force fed that colonel six of his teeth."

"Then perhaps _he_ should have known better than to insult me and mine where I could hear him."

"I'll ask him about it, that's all I can promise." and it's all she can do not to start giggling. She heard about that particular incident and had laughed herself sick for half an hour over it. "But in all seriousness, I'm at your beck and call no matter what you need."

"Thank you, Daisy." Thana smiles at her, noticing that Rhea is too irritated to continue on the subject. "Be sure to give Doc our regards."

"Yes, ma'am. You all take care."

They only linger long enough to make sure Pyrrha's comfortable and secure, tucked against Haeda's chest with one of her big arms bracing her back so her free hand can hold the reins. Rhea had thought for all of a second to argue that _she_ look after Pyrrha for the trip back, but she knows better. Her Faunus partner is more than capable and she knows she wants to do this.

"I've got room for one more," Thana offers, patting her horse's rump with her hand. It's obvious to her that all these poor kids are tired.

"If it isn't too much trouble." Tag lifts both hands, almost mimicking a gesture of surrender. She approaches with a weighted looking posture, an obvious slouch, and as agile as the Otter is, it takes three attempts before she hauls herself up.

"Mayhaps we'll have to put you to bed as well, hm?" Thana tries at gentle humor, only receiving a meek "thank you" in response.

"If we're ready," Rhea cuts in. "Let's be on."

Jaune, Nora, and Ren don't mind the walk, after being cooped up on the ship for several days it's a nice change of space. But everything still feels awkward and heavy between them and the older huntresses -more so between them and Rhea. She's still putting off this cautioning, untouchable front, and the trio of teens are actually grateful that she remains uninterested in them throughout the half mile hike into town. Thana is more accepting, but only so much as a stranger can be with the added distance of age difference that no one can explain but can always feel when it's there. Haeda is silent for obvious reasons, and Pyrrha appears to sleep, which is just fine as far as anyone is concerned.

 

Ithica is the largest city in Mistral, not so much by population density as by sheer size. It encompasses the entirety of the Ithic Rim, most commonly referred to as the Rim, fifty miles that circles an inland sea that doesn't have a name by anyone's account. The city started on the island near the center of the sea and eventually expanded to the shores which, in time, separated into a collection of distinct districts. Now the island is mainly used by Ithica's governing body, rubbing shoulders with a Dust mine and processing facility, whereas everything else went on along the Rim.

The Nikos Family home is on the outskirts of the Minoa district, the nearest other house to it being perhaps fifty yards in any direction save southward, which opens up into the hills beyond the city's boundaries. They'll pass the pasture first, moving along the line of the sturdy wood and chain link fencing that lined the acreage. The stable comes into view when they reach the end of the fence, the faces of several bales of hay peeking through the opening of the loft. Beyond that is a spread of well kept and even ground, the grass having long since been done away with and the dark red, clay clotted soil packed down to almost stone like solidity. It's about the dimensions of a standard tournament platform, several feet squared, at least that's how it appears at first glance.

A line of various, winter stripped trees separate the training pitch from the veranda at the rear of the villa, the marble of both structures a uniform off-white. Several plots of a dormant garden flank the area, rimmed in more marble, and around one of them a muster of peacocks strut warily once they're aware of visitors. Three males fan out their pompous tail feathers and starts wailing -the noise is enough to make Pyrrha jump, Haeda soothing her with a hum and a kiss on the forehead.

On the veranda there's a collection of rattan chaise lounges that ring a fire pit that's half full of icy water, likely the remnants of the most recent snow. This is where the horses come to an easy stop. Rhea starts delving out tasks as she slides down from her saddle, Thana responding and then relaying them all to Haeda once the Faunus has eyes on her. The kids just try their best to keep up and stay out of the way.

 

Pyrrha had been awake for the entirety of the trip, the air just a little too cold for her to get fully back to sleep. Still she rests however she can, only half aware that her body is feeding on the low pulse of Haeda's aura. All the while her senses had been gathering information, sparking memories and a sense of physical comfort at the steadily building sensation of familiarity. She had rode and run through these hills since she was a child. The air smells as she remembers, a strange mixture of fresh water from the inland sea and salt from the ocean to the west. The closer they come to town the more apparent sour scent of the numerous harbors and piers reach her, coupled with the unmistakable odor of the city stockyard that currently houses no less than three score of cattle. Oh yeah, that's a smell you never forget. The peacocks had startled her, but only for a second, the shock is mostly from it being unexpected and her head still being full of a drowsy haze. Images of early mornings disturbed by the birds fill her head -she never needed an alarm clock because of their habitual honking at almost the exact same time every day.

The horse coming to a stop and her mother's voice bring Pyrrha's attention higher, she just opens her eyes and makes out the blurred outline of Haeda as the Faunus navigates out of the saddle and to the ground with as much care as possible. Being carried is such a strange feeling, always has been. Something subconscious always thought once one reaches a certain age it just wasn't right to be carted around. But she tolerates it quietly though she's starting to feel like her skin doesn't feel right -like she's just been touched too much today. The irritation is short lived, and after only a few minutes she feels herself deposited into a chair that creaks a little under her weight. Out of some old reflex triggered by the new scent around her she stirs in the cocoon of blankets, trying to make skin contact with the plush fur that covers the chair from top to bottom. Genuine bear fur almost as soft as silk brushes against her cheek as she nuzzles as deep into it as she can. Comfort washes over her in a warm wave and she wants to disappear into it.

Voices bounce around her but she's only partly paying attention; all she cares about is this, the soft stillness she's trying to wrap herself up in. It's enough that she audibly fusses as big arms circle and lift her up again, she even tenses in weak resistance until she hears a familiar hum. She can hear water running, a dull thunder that only gets louder, almost too loud. Pyrrha's resisting again when they try to take the blankets away, her hands forming fists and pushing against Haeda's chest -don't they understand how cold it is? When the Faunus starts pulling the shredded hoodie down her arms Pyrrha makes the first sound in days, something like a catty growl.

"Pyrrha, please, it's only for a moment." Rhea chides gently, "We have to get you clean."

"C... _cold_ ," the word wrings itself free, though it doesn't hurt as much as she expected it to.

"And the water is warm, I promise. You'll feel better."

It is better, Pyrrha finds as her skin comes alive with goosebumps and shivers, her muscles tensing sharply but not painfully as she's lowered into the tub, the water up to her chest. She's quick to relax and accept the heat, draping herself against her thighs and propping her chin on her knees. She won't fight them anymore.

At first, washing away the smudges of blood and ash and dirt brings Rhea comfort. It eases some of the heavy weight that's been sitting on her for the last day and a half, but it's a hollow consolation. As the filth comes away from her daughter's skin, she comes upon the reality of the inky darkness that streaks across Pyrrha's body like smoke and jagged veins. And the scar, that god awful thing sitting between her shoulder blades that's thick like spilled wax and pitch black.

 _I was dead._ Rhea shivers at the thought, unsure of what was more unsettling about it; that Pyrrha said it at all, or how casually she did it. Like it was nothing.

Was this horrid scar what was left from... Her brain couldn't finish forming the question. That's just too much right now. Instead she busies herself with the simpler, more instinctive task of being a mother caring for her child, doing whatever she can to make sure she's safe and as comfortable as possible. The hardest part of which is watching Haeda take scissors to Pyrrha's hair, some of it being so matted that there is no saving it.

 

Thana is tending to the horses, corralling the younger hunters in to lending a hand if for no other reason than to ease the tension she still feels between the lot of them. Small talk just isn't working, which she wasn't ready for because it almost always does. After walking the horses back to the stables she dresses them down, surprised when Jaune starts to do the same with another one. She smiles and nods when he tells her about growing up in the Warren and that this was nothing new. Now that they've found common ground, the conversation comes much more easily.

"I imagine Ithica is still different from what you're used to?"

Hefting saddlebags against his chest before slinging them over one shoulder he responds "We were in Mistral for a while before coming here, so it's not too much of a stretch. And this is Ren's home kingdom."

"I had guessed." she nods. "What part of Mistral did you visit?"

"Caissa."

"I see." she feels a bit of a shudder, knowing as much about the place as she cared too, and even that felt like too much sometimes. "Not the best place for tourists, eh?"

"Not if you ask me." he gives a nervous chuckle, getting the saddle blanket and draping it on his arm. "But I've heard of Ithica before, my mom showed it to me on a map. Now that I think about it, she visited once."

"Is that so?" Thana has her horse by the reins and starts to walk it to its stall. "What's your mother's name, maybe we crossed paths,"

"It was some time ago, I was just a baby then," he clears his throat, starting to walk Rhea's horse across the cobblestone floor towards the stalls behind Thana. "My mom's name is Gypsy."

He doesn't see it, but the older huntress is making a face, she's thinking, wondering maybe if she heard him right. "Last name?" she asks as she comes out of the stall.

"Arc."

"Is she tall? A Rabbit Faunus, looks like she could be my sister?"

"Ah-um...yeah, actually."

"Cybele's stars," Thana exclaims, smiling from ear to ear. "Gypsy Danger is _your_ mother?"

His jaw drops and his eyes widen. "Wh-who?"

"Well, that's what _I_ called her; if she had been single Rhea would've liked to call her _darling_." and she can tell immediately that her words had explained absolutely nothing, and had in fact raised more questions. "But I remember her, she and her two sisters, they were here on a hunt some fifteen...maybe sixteen years ago. I'll be damned," she shakes her head. "What a small world."

"H-how did she get that name?" the shock still has a firm hold on him, because right now that nickname simply doesn't fit the countless memories of the sweet, spirited yet gentle woman spinning through his head.

"I think it's _awesome_ ," Nora adds, surprising literally no one.

"I don't know what she's told you, but Gypsy is a hell of a fighter. Human or Grimm, she could put the fear of the gods in them. Rhea is going to jump out of her skin when she hears this."

Jaune just blinks. It takes a moment for him to realize just how accurate that actually is. So he just accepts it.

"But Pyrrha didn't tell us very much about you, although what we did hear was good." Thana continues. "She seemed very happy to have you all."

"We were happy to have her. Lucky too." Jaune feels a little like he's revealing a dirty secret.

"Believe it or not Pyrrha never did have an easy time making friends, even before she became so popular."

He could believe it. Couldn't really understand how it was possible, but he could believe it. The universe turns funny like that sometimes. "We all loved having her around, and not just us."

"That's good to hear." the older huntress nods. "It was one of the reasons she chose Beacon over Haven, she had hoped somewhere farther from home would make it easier to go unrecognized and actually find people her own age to be with."

Jaune laughs. "I didn't know who she was when we first met, her name didn't even ring a bell. Someone _else_ had to tell me, and even then I didn't clue in until they mentioned her being on a Pumpkin Pete's box."

Thana laughs. "Oh _that_ , goodness. Well, in that case, she must have _adored_ you."

He feels heat rushing into his face and chokes on his own spit, sucking it down when he realizes both Ren and Nora are unashamedly staring holes through him. Almost like they're trying to tell him _we told you so_. At least that's what he sensed they were doing, still the severity of the look makes him recoil and turn his head away.

With the tack and harnesses put away in their proper places along with the horses, they head out of the stable with whatever gear they carried, most of which Nora insists on hauling herself. It's only now as they cross the training pitch and pass the line of trees that they realize Tag hadn't been with them. She had been so easily distracted by the peacocks, and they spot her crouched on the edge of the veranda with the whole lot of the birds making a half circle around her, vying for attention. However the Faunus looks wholly uninterested.

"Is she all right?" Thana asks softly, her head turned to watch just like everyone else.

"Not right now." Jaune answers. And when Thana asks if there's anything she can do, he just repeats himself. He thinks to call out to her, have her follow, but then he thinks again and decides to leave her be. She had been isolating herself for the last couple days, and knowing her like he does, he figures she's choosing to do it. Everybody needs to be by themselves sometimes, after all.

They head inside the villa, the back door swinging open into what looks like a family room with a pair of large sofas and coffee tables with simple lamps besides short stacks of books that have gathered a little dust. Haeda meets them there, looking like to having been heading out to fetch them and visibly pleased to be saved the trouble. She helps Nora put away the gear, at least set it out of the way to be sorted and stored properly later. Rhea is also present, standing beside the fur covered recliner and easing it back so Pyrrha can lie down. The young woman is all wrapped up in blankets again, looking to have a simple housecoat on underneath it all. She's clean, her hair tamed and in a loose ponytail at her shoulder that only just reaches her sternum now, and she's already sleeping hard in spite of having been set in the chair perhaps a minute or so ago.

Rhea sees them all there and addresses them, raising her arm. "Who does this belong to?"

Jaune picks out the orange and black of his hoodie and unconsciously raises his hand, almost like he's back in class and admitting to one of his many academic screw ups.

"I appreciate you allowing her to use it," she nods, straightening and beginning a slow approach. "We can have it mended for you, or replaced if you prefer."

He feels put on the spot but does his best to swallow it down. "It's fine, I can just hang on to it until I get home. If I get back home."

"Nonsense." Thana intercedes, "you shouldn't have to go without to spare us any inconvenience. I'll take care of it."

"Th-thanks."

"Now," Rhea takes back their focus, "we are going to sit down, and we're not getting up again until I understand all of this."

They all just nod in agreement and move to follow Rhea into the adjacent dinning room. Jaune lingers back only long enough to fetch Tag, as much as he would rather let her have her peace and quiet.

 

 

Author's Note: This chapter felt weird, but I also feel like the next few are going to be because I have a whole new cubic buttload of exposition to unfurl for you guys, and that's a drastic change compared to all the action I've been putting out. So be braced for dialogue dumps a shite ton of character interaction, because that's likely the bulk of what you'll get for a while. If anyone picks up on the allegories for Pyrrha's mom, congrats, if not, I'll likely post about it on my Tumblr anyway -which, feel free to visit for fun Embers related stuff and news. Next chapter, the kids do their best to adjust being guests of the Nikos family, and Pyrrha steadily starts getting back on her feet. As for Team RWBY, it's a small world, and Vale an even smaller city, law of averages says Cinder's going to get wise to them eventually. Have fun and see you then! Also, the one year anniversary of Embers' first chapter is the 19th! How cool!

 


	47. Chapter Forty-Six

The peacocks on the veranda start wailing and she jumps into full awareness. Rhea straightens, stretching, eventually perching on the edge of the sofa that had been her bed. She rubs her eyes, blinks her vision clear, and then takes a quick assessment of the room purely out of habit. Her knees crack as she stands up, making her wince a little before she makes herself start walking. She'll pause at the recliner just to check on Pyrrha, glad to see her at all, the fact that she seems to be resting peacefully an added bonus. Memories of yesterday and what felt like the hours long discussion flutter through her head as she goes about her morning routine.

She feels a little better after combing her hair and changing into more comfortable clothes -she had slept in her travel clothes last night, and this reminds her she needs to put her armor away and not leave it in a pile on the floor by the couch. A simple, violet pankheri with a matching sari circle her frame, both with matching white embroidery so intricate one shudders to think it was done by hand. Passing through the family room again she quickly realizes that the scene has changed; Tag is sitting on the floor beside the recliner, one hand hidden beneath blanket. She sees the Faunus' eyes are glowing a haunting shade of green and hurries along, doing her best to ignore her motherly instincts to intervene. She knows Tag is only trying to help.  _ Maidens... _

Rhea's shaking her head as she steps into the kitchen, fetching a kettle off its hook above the sink and filling it with water. Her movements seem mechanical, entirely from muscle memory, which might be for the better as her thoughts are buzzing in too many directions  _ -but I was dead. _ The kettle is on the stove and starting to heat up without her even realizing she's done it, and she settles to prop herself against the edge of the counter with her arms crossed, worrying the edge of her lip with her teeth. She's thinking about the last year, feeling an unsettling sense of wonder at how much and how quickly it changed. 

It only felt like yesterday Pyrrha left for Beacon, maybe even the day before as, realistically, receiving news of her death felt closer than that once she considers it. Yes, it must have been yesterday that Daisy came to her front door with Akouo in her hands and a timid and torn look on her face. Only yesterday that she flew into a rage, calling the poor girl a dirty liar before slamming the door on her face only to collapse in the middle of the hallway clutching the shield to her chest and sobbing for what felt like hours. After that everything feels like disjointed, minute-long snippets that actually encapsulate the events of several months; she remembers keeping Pyrrha's room just so -the very way she left it- down to making sure the sheets were regularly laundered and her bed was made. After all, she wasn't dead, she was missing, and who wouldn't want a clean bed to rest in after being away from home for so long? But that custodial instinct eventually gave way to a hopeless anesthesia, and Rhea remembers just being numb for a while. Then Theron-

Rhea's head snaps up to the sound of dragging feet, only slightly startled. Haeda waves at her with a smile, her hair an absolute mess and she simply not caring. Dressed in little more than her freckles she carefully moves about the kitchen, fetching a pair of mugs and setting them beside the stove before asking with her eyes for a kiss. Rhea agrees with no obvious delight or disapproval, leading Haeda to ask what's wrong. Rhea responds with a hand gesture that's much too familiar, one that makes the Faunus frown a little. With a little coaxing and some assuring brushes of her tail against Rhea's leg, she manages to get the human talking.

Most of it is what Haeda expects, and of course Pyrrha is the heart of the matter. Anything else would've caused her to worry. She carefully watches Rhea listing the things on her mind, not at all surprised by any of it -in truth they're all connected one way or another. There was what she learned yesterday about Ozpin, which that alone raised countless doubts and questions that gutted Rhea and nearly brought her to tears. She had trusted Ozpin once, respected him as a huntsman and confident in allowing Pyrrha to attend Beacon knowing that he would look out for her. Then he...gods above she couldn't decide who to hate more, herself or that damn man's memory. To think he would try to use Pyrrha like that, and that leads to the mind-rending reality of the Maidens' existence. They were just a story, damn it, and stories are meant to stay that way. Right? And yet one of the main characters of said story is sitting in her living room and had saved her daughter's life. If there's one thing Rhea knows for sure it's that simple folklore doesn't have that kind of power. Still...

Haeda tries to be supportive but practical because she knows Rhea can get carried away when she feels overwhelmed. Simple interjecting gestures of "I understand" and "it's okay, take a second" are enough to help her partner stay focused.

Talking about Pyrrha and the time she was gone eventually leads to the subject of Theron, and all Haeda can do is nod. What's to say, really? The Faunus asks when Rhea's going to tell Pyrrha what happened, and all Rhea can say is "When she asks."

It's quiet for a spell, the silence between them brought on by the whistling of the kettle. Out of some long trained habit Rhea makes tea for them both -chai for Haeda and Oolong for herself- and then passes the fat, kitty-shaped mug to her partner. They stand across from each other and nurse their drinks; Haeda is visibly soothed by the warmth, Rhea's anxious tension doesn't appear to change at all. Clearly there's more on her mind than she's said so far. Then Rhea's chin drops, her brow knitting as her eye closes with tight lines forming at the edges. Her lips move but Haeda can't read them so she asks in her own way for the statement to be repeated.

Rhea signs because it's easier than speaking, and the hand gestures are exaggerated to telegraph intent.  _ I'm a terrible mother. This is my fault. This happened because of me. _

Once Haeda mitigates choking on her tea, she sets the mug down and promptly counters those statements with a slew of her own. She does her best to explain, in excruciating detail, just how wrong she believes Rhea is and why she needs to stop thinking like that. The human woman has a stubborn streak like no one else, and it shows when she sets down her own tea and attempts to argue. She feels like she's to blame for what happened to Pyrrha, she had allowed her to attend Beacon, after all, when she should have just pressed harder for Haven.

Thana eases into the kitchen then, her head snapping to the side to watch out of a natural reflex to track the now wild movements of her partners' hand. It doesn't take much for her to make a guess at what's going on. She sighs to herself, adjusting her fluffy housecoat a little tighter before she clears her throat. Rhea hears it, and her addressing Thana makes Haeda do the same. Once she's sure they're watching her, Thana signs with a completely neutral and tired expression,  _ You know it upsets me when you shout. _

For a second the two of them stare at her, then it clicks, and Rhea just frowns while Haeda tries not to smile while she sticks her tongue out in mild disapproval. Thana laughs softly, glad that some of the tension in the room has ebbed. Now she's searching for her own mug, liking the idea of tea.

"I was thinking of making breakfast for everyone." she exhales as she tips the kettle over her cup. "The kids too. What do you think?"

"Well, they're here, we might as well feed them." and Rhea doesn't mean to sound so indignant, but that's how it came out. "Would I be too much in the way if I made some soup for Pyrrha? That medic said she needed soft foods for the time being."

"By all means, it's been too long since we've cooked together." Thana doesn't like the look of hurt shame she has brought to Rhea's face, but it's expected. She's grateful that her partner is aware enough to feel that way, aware of the fact that they haven't been much of a family this passed year. Understandable, of course, but certainly not pleasant.

"I know." she sighs. "I'm sorry." she then shakes her head and looks at Thana, her face scrunching curiously after a moment. "Did you forget to shave?"

"Hm?" sable brows lift towards her hairline that's broken up by pristine rows of braids. One hand touches her chin, feeling stubble. "Suppose I did. The last couple nights haven't been kind to me in regards to sleep."

"It hasn't been kind to any of us." Haeda must have caught enough of the conversation to agree, Rhea watching her nod. "So what do we do now?"

"We take care of our girl." Thana answers almost immediately. "We take care of her, process this wonderful mess we've found ourselves pulled into, and take it one day at a time as always."

"What if Pyrrha never recovers? Have you seen her?" She and Thana turn to watch as Haeda signs, making distinct gestures to her own eye teeth and fingernails. "As she says, fangs and claws. My daughter is-"

"Is recovering from exceptionally powerful Witchcraft. And according to her team she was under that spell for  _ months _ ,"

Rhea looks at her pointedly, unconvinced. "What does her aura say?"

"I can't see it. I don't know why."

Haeda is signing.  _ Because she died? _

"It's possible, but who would know?" Thana inches her shoulders. "This...this has never happened before."

Rhea pushes out a puff of air, a disenchanted and sarcastic sound. "Not even according to the all-knowing Cybele?"

Thana tries not to feel offended, but it's hard. "I'll have to look it up...pray about it."

"You do that."

"If that's how you're going to be this morning, maybe you should go back to bed?"

"Can't go back to a place I haven't been."

Even if Haeda can't hear, she can still plainly sense the pitching tension in the room. Without warning she moves to put herself between Thana and Rhea, her way of telling them to step back and take a moment. An uneasy quiet settles in again, the three of them appearing to ignore each other for a spell. Eventually Haeda swats Thana's leg with her tail, getting her attention before she signs with one hand.

Thana smiles. "Yes, I'll make pancakes. That would be better for all the guests we have, nice and simple."

The Faunus' hands continue with another request, her eyes set hopefully.

"I will make you a fat-kitty pancake if you like, yes." the darker skinned woman smiles widely, nodding. "Would you fetch what I need?"

Haeda's eager to help, gulping down the rest of her tea before moving towards the refrigerator. After that she disappears into the pantry for whatever else she needs, leaving the other two woman to face each other again.

"I'm sorry." Rhea sighs. "I know you hate that."

"And I know you're in a bad place right now, you feel overwhelmed and that tends to make you bare your teeth. I understand. But I appreciate the apology all the same." She doesn't turn her head and neither does Rhea, they don't have to look at one another for this, they've been too close for too long. "Although I think it would help if you had a little faith in the kids. Well, they're not really kids at this point, but you understand what I mean."

"How? I don't even know them, yesterday was the first I'd ever seen them."

"But Gypsy's son,"

"Even great women can birth terrible sons." and the retort is biting, like it's personal.

Thana shrugs, trying her best not to roll her eyes. She finds a skillet and sets it on the stove, then goes on the hunt for bowls and the proper utensils. "He's not terrible. He's gentle and has a big heart, albeit a little dopey perhaps."

Rhea laughs a little. "Did his aura tell you all that?"

"Not in so many words, but yes. And the other two are just as good, I think you should give them an honest chance." and she knows just how big a favor that is to ask, feeling some of the weight of it herself. "They fought hard for Pyrrha's sake, that earns them that much, even more so if you ask me."

"You're right. But,"

"But they're strangers and you're suspicious and you can't help yourself. I know, and I'm not saying you're wrong, only that you need to give a little."

"I know." Rhea takes another breath. "But it isn't just about Pyrrha. I want  _ us _ to be safe too. I just...I don't know how much more I can take this year."

"Good thing it's almost over then, eh?" Thana laughs, her smile widening when Rhea finally looks up at her, trying at a grin of her own. "Why don't you go sit down? Haeda and I can take care of this."

Reluctantly she agrees, getting a kiss on the cheek as she passes her partner.

 

Tag gently pulls the magic back, letting it nestle in its place beneath her aura, and immediately tries to stomach the sensation of gravity trying to pull her guts through her belly button. She's so taxed, almost drawn too thin and she hates it. She can't afford to be, nor does she want to feel this drained. She pushes her hands through her hair, scratching her scalp with blunt claws with hopes that the stimulation will be enough to at least take the lethargic edge of. When it doesn't work she just scratches harder, almost breaking the skin with a spark of pain and frustration. Now she just feels worse and her usually glorious mess of hair doesn't feel so glorious anymore. She pulls her hands down her face with a groan.

_ What good is being a Maiden if my body wears out before my magic? _

Tag tries to find comfort in the little progress she feels she's made with Pyrrha. Maybe she'll be up and walking in a day or two, sooner if she can get another session of healing in today -something she isn't sure of at the moment. By the same token she's not even sure if standing can go on her list of things to do when just getting to her knees makes her head swim a little. When she's on her feet her tail has to brace her before she can find a stable center, and for a moment she just stands and looks around the room, trying to remember where she is and what she was doing. Maybe she needed to go back to bed for a spell, perhaps actually sleep this time. Yes, a nap sounds good, and maybe after that she'll have something like an appetite again. When was the last time she ate, anyway?

Her hand braces the wall and she makes her way down one hallway, eyes fixed uneasily on the door just ahead -the guestroom where she had spent the night. All four of them had taken up residence there last night, making use of the large bed among a collection of bookshelves. The bed was big enough for all four of them if they wanted to get friendly, but Tag wasn't in a friendly way so she curled up at the foot and well out of everyone's way in spite of their protests. As much as she was starved for physical touch, the idea of it disgusted her. More so, the idea of getting it from anyone other than...

She shakes her head, sucking down a sudden onset of tears as she steps into the room. One of the bodies is missing from beneath the covers, leaving messy blossoms of orange and sable peeking out at the head of the bed among the pillows. Carefully and quietly she slides onto the mattress to occupy her chosen sleeping space, consciously ignoring the urge to slip into the empty space in the hopes of it still being warm. Tag curls up there atop the covers, body tight and dog-like, her tail tucking between her legs so she can hold the tip in her hands -what she would give to just shrink until she disappears.

_ Come on now, you're a grown woman, no need to be hysterical. People come and go all the time, right? It's the nature of life, and who knows that better than you? No use worrying over something you can't change anyway. Just stay focused, yes, keep your mind on what you're doing and you'll get it done. Then you can fix your little problems. _

Somehow her mental pep talk does anything but comfort her.

_ You could always call the girls, maybe that will...no, they don't need your weepy self dumping on them, they have their own mess to contend with. Problems that are bigger than yours. _

Fair enough. Besides, calling them might give her the courage to try and talk to...

_ You know  _ **_they_ ** _ don't want to talk to you. They're done with you, remember? _

But she doesn't want to believe that. Just can't.

_ What about Glynda? She'll want to know how things are going. _

But there's nothing she feels of note to tell her. Sure, there is that big black mass perched atop Pyrrha's heart that she hasn't said a word about to anyone, however she wanted to see if she could learn any more about it before speaking up.

Speak of the devil and he appears, or in this case, calls. Tag jumps at an unfamiliar chime, a noise that takes her a moment to remember as her scroll's tone for an incoming call. She half scrambles off the bed to all but dive into the pile of backpacks nearby, jerking open the zipper of her bag to find the device. She pulls it out with a fumbling hand, tossing it upward and panicking to catch it before it hit the floor. Sure enough when she looks at the screen -though it's upside down- there's Glynda Goodwitch's framed photo in the center above her name.

Her tongue won't work at first when she tries to answer, but eventually produces a shaky greeting.

_ "Did I interrupt something?" _

"N-no, no, I was just," her brain is blanking again, like in the living room. "I was lying down, it's all right."

_ "My apologies for disturbing you." _

"It's fine," she repeats, settling on her backside in the pile of packs, her back against a bookshelf. "How are things where you are?"

_ "Quiet for the time being. We're still looking for Cinder with no leads as of yet." _

"And your sister?"

_ "As far as the doctors are concerned she's perfectly healthy, but she hasn't regained consciousness or her aura. Is Miss Nikos still showing similar symptoms?" _

"Yes," she answers unsteadily, again taming the impulse to divulge everything. "Though she's getting better, her aura hasn't resurfaced either. B-but I'm still trying."

_ "I have no doubt, I was merely checking in as I said I would." _

"Of course, right, I remember," though the memory feels like a thin cobweb on the verge of dissolving. "If I could ask...how are the girls?"

_ "Miss Schnee and Belladonna are helping Qrow search for Cinder. Miss Xiaolong and Billy are helping to secure the hospital where we're currently staying. I thought it the best task for Billy considering their heart issue." _

"Th-thank you." she swallows a thickness in her throat.

There's a long strain of silence over the line, long enough for Tag to suspect that Glynda may have "hung up" as she's heard it said.

_ "I think whatever was inside of my sister may be spreading." _

Now the Faunus' heart dangles from her ribs, ready to drop at the possible meaning of that statement. "What do you mean?"

_ "You remember Miss Rose fought with Salem, yes?" _ she waits for Tag's reply.  _ "Now there's a wound in her side that has turned black and refuses to heal. None of the doctors can explain it, however I don't feel my sister's magic in it either. It could only be one other thing," _

Tag feels the heaviness in her chest drop into her stomach, and her lungs deflate with a defeated sort of shrug. "Oh no." it's the best she's got. "That....Nature's grace,"

_ "That's another reason why I convinced Billy to stay at the hospital. Should worse come to worse and Miss Rose...well, at the very least, we would have a way to contain her." _

"You think she may become like Pyrrha?"

_ "There's not enough evidence to suggest otherwise, so yes. It's a real concern, for me at the very least seeing as I have yet to share this suspicion with most of the others. Now I don't want you to take this is a thinly veiled request to rush out here. I would much rather you continue your work with Miss Nikos and learn all you're able." _

"I'll do my best. Once I have something I'll let you know." she nods to herself. Tag senses the conversation is drawing to a close so she makes herself say what she's thinking. "Say hello to everyone for me...a-and good luck."

_ "I'll pass along the message, and good luck to you as well. Stay safe." _ Then there was a static sounding pop, signaling the end of the call.

Tag will let her hand rest on her thigh, staring down at the now blank screen for several seconds, the state of her mind reflected in the clear emptiness. Then she shrugs, scratching her head as she drops the device back into her bag.

"That was Glynda, wasn't it?"

Tag's head snaps up, dark eyes cutting to the bed where she sees Nora sitting up. Her brow is low over her eyes, her expression wary.

"Yes." Tag nods. "But don't worry, no one's coming for us. We're all right where we are."

At first she doesn't seem to buy it, her bright blue eyes thinning with suspicion, but she eventually nods too. "Okay...hmm, something smells good."

Tag perks with instinctual interest, taking a whiff of the air as well. "Breakfast perhaps?"

"God I hope so. Hey, Ren, c'mon," she pushes him with her hand, receiving only a low groan. Clearly that isn't the response she wanted as she proceeds to scoop him up and throw him over her shoulder. "You were warned." And again he just mumbles something as she hauls him out of the room.

Tag shakes her head, laughing just a little though the sound is obviously superficial. She'll sit on the floor for just a moment longer before finally seeing fit to crawl back onto the bed. She'll settle in the previously occupied space, catching the little warmth that remained, and then pull the blanket up to her ears. It takes a moment, but she drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

 

_ (II) _

She feels chilled and exhausted, two things Blake Belladonna will never appreciate on their own or together as they are now. She turns up the collar of her coat as she feels the wind turn, pelting her face and hair with snow. Her ears flatten against her head to keep the weather out and she quickens her steps; the hotel is just a block away and she was eager to get inside. The sky is slowly changing from black to gray, dawn encroaching, and Blake yawns as she feels the long hours of scouring the city catching up with her. Nearly three days of searching and they've turned up nothing. She shrugs, thinking maybe they'll have better luck later.

Before stepping through the glass doors at the main entrance of the hotel she pauses, looking off towards Beacon and just able to make out the silhouette of the tower. Part of her is expecting that awful thing perched on top to tear itself to life the second she looks away.

It's much warmer inside, thankfully, but she still shakes a little at the cold lingering in her clothes and skin. Blake nods to the receptionist as she passes the desk and makes a beeline for the elevator. During the ride she fluffs her hair, hoping to shake some of the water out, same goes for her ears, and she's amused to see little droplets hit the stainless steel panel where all the buttons are. She'll step off the lift into a mostly empty corridor, a lone housekeeper at the far end is vacuuming the carpet. Blake reaches the door to her room about the same instant as she pulls the key card from her pocket, the locking mechanism clicking open after she slides the card through the reader.

The room inside is dark and quiet. The blankets on the bed are messily piled up, the pillows out of place, and a half empty pizza box sits partly opened on the small reading table on the far side of the bed. Her felid eyes follow the natural line of evidence to the sliding glass door across the room from her and settle on a mess of golden hair. Yang is standing out on the balcony, barefoot and in a tank top and sweat pants. She doesn't wonder for a second if her partner is cold, because of course she isn't.

As she pulls open the door and steps outside she knows she's right; Yang isn't cold. There isn't a fleck of snow anywhere on her, the flakes melt mid air when they get too close, and around her feet is a bare and bone dry patch of pavement.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you didn't find anything," Yang exhales, an audible smile in her voice.

"You'd be right." Blake sighs, taking the steps she needs to join her partner against the rail. For a moment she looks across the skyline, consciously telling herself not to look towards the tower again. "You didn't sleep, did you?"

"Not really." she inches her broad shoulders. "Too busy thinking." Much too busy thinking about Ruby and how sick she is. How sick she could become. "Can't keep my eyes shut."

Blake's ears ease back, sympathetic. She looks at Yang, seeing the genuine worry creasing her brow and thinning her lips, and as her eyes drop she spots something else in her hands. "I thought you were trying to quit?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." Yang shifts, holding her occupied hand out in front of her, grinning at the unlit cigarette. "I haven't had any, just thinking about it really. Just stressed out."

"You should call your therapist instead."

"Her office is closed for a few more hours yet, but I left her a message to call me when she has a chance."

"Good." the Faunus nods. "What about your stress ball that Weiss gave you?"

Yang laughs, she doesn't have the heart to tell her that poor Fatty the Stress Whale met his end at Yang's hand, popped in the midst of a quiet fit of anger and tears. "Where is Ice Princess anyway? Still at the hospital?"

Blake nods again. "Qrow too."

"Poor girl needs to sleep."

"Try telling  _ her _ that."

Yang chuckles again. She watches as Blake inches closer, mentally bracing for any physical contact that might be coming. The Maiden asks to hold her hand and she agrees, their warmth coming together, palm to palm. Their fingers lace, temerity twining, and they smile at each other.

_ You need to sleep too. _ The thought hums along their link from Maiden to Guardian.

_ It's not that I don't want to. Just too wound up I guess. Feeling helpless has never suited me. _

_ Then would you care for a distraction? _

And it's not just words, but a heated vibration that travels along the crystalline bond between them. It stokes the natural flame of Yang's being and warms her from head to toe. She looks to Blake, aware and still grinning, her eyes tinged a gentle red. "But I bet you're exhausted."

"I'll likely fall asleep right after," if this potential encounter goes like all the others, "but I didn't think you'd mind since you probably would too."

"Fair enough."  _ Can I kiss you? _

Blake answers with actions over words, expecting her mouth to be busy. Yang snatches her up, her mechanical arm around her waist and her other hand cupping the back of her head to bring their lips together. A surprised mewl rattles from her throat as Yang's tongue pushes into her mouth.

_ Sorry, kitten, I just really love kissing you. _

_ Clearly. You know, that sounds a lot better now that we're not fighting for our lives. _

_ You like it? Because if you don't, I'll stop. _

_ It's fine, so long as it stays between us. _

_ You got it. _

Yang bends down and scoops her up into her arms, the Faunus giggling softly as she grips her Guardian about the neck even though she doesn't need to; she knows Yang would never drop her. They disappear into the darkness of the room beyond the glass door, lovingly undressing each other before tumbling into bed, making it an even bigger mess of pillows and blankets than when Blake first arrived. They do indeed fall asleep right after, hardly having the energy or presence of mind to kiss one last time and wish one another pleasant dreams.

Yang has no idea how long she sleeps before she's awake again, but she's groggy enough to guess it was quite a while and that it had been deep. Someone's knocking on the door. Blake stirs beside her, rising up from under her arm until Yang stops her, shushing her sleepy mumbles and assuring the Summer Maiden that she had it all under control. Half stumbling out of bed she'll snatch her shirt up from the floor as she goes, pulling it over her head just in time to answer the door. It's Weiss, but she barely recognizes her. The heiress' usually staunch demeanor has been replaced by a weary looking slouch, her arms folded across her middle and her chin tucked with her eyes fixed on the floor, and her always perfect eyeliner is smudged. She looks like she's been crying her eyes out for hours -or maybe that's how long she's been holding it in and just now released it.

"C-can I come in?"

"Of course you can. I'd ask if you're all right but,"

"Clearly not," comes a watery exhale that might have been her attempt at a laugh. She lifts her head, blinking a few tears away instead of wiping at them with her hand and worsening the state of her makeup. "Thank-" she pauses, frowning. "You're not wearing pants."

"I am not." Yang nods once.

Weiss clears her throat. "Blake,"

"Hm?" comes a distant sounding, muffled response.

"Yang answered the door without pants."

"...I have no excuse."

"And just for the record, Blake isn't wearing pants either. In fact, if you want to split hairs,  _ none _ of us are wearing pants."

Weiss' mouth opens to form a protest but she stops herself. Yang isn't entirely wrong, and she hates it, so she scowls again -at her own skirt this time. Then she deflates with a quiet shrug. "Can I come in, please?"

Yang grins and steps aside, holding the door and closing it behind them once Weiss is inside. Yang watches her move through the waning darkness, watches how the tension in her manifests in waves. Her posture keeps shifting, mainly in her shoulders that inch upward only to drop suddenly, and in the way one of her hands keeps moving to rub the back of her neck. It's more than obvious to the brawler that Weiss is in a bad place, and in a way she can feel it too, a cold bristling that feels like magic crackling against her aura. She eventually sits down in the chair by the reading table, pondering the pizza box for half a second until she all but collapses on herself, her elbows on her knees and her head resting in her hands. Blake shifts in the bed, covering herself and propping up against the headboard. Yang grabs her boxer briefs off the floor and quickly slips them on.

"Did something happen at the hospital?"

"No," Weiss groans into her palms. "I would have called. It's just," she has to breathe, to steady herself because she hates having to say this. "I had to get out of there. I couldn't break down in front of Glynda  _ and _ Mr. Xiaolong."

"Weiss, he raised two daughters, he's used to seeing girls cry."

"But  _ I'm _ not." she didn't mean to snap, but she did and immediately reigned herself in with a quick apology. "It's just that I'm scared and...and I shouldn't be. I need to be strong but,"

"Weiss," Blake's ears ease back, "we've all been running ourselves ragged since we got back, no one's expecting you to go forever."

"I'm not trying to, it's just so  _ hard _ ." she chokes down a sob. "She's in so much pain...I can actually  _ feel it _ sometimes."

Yang and Blake look at each other, each with the same anxious look on their face.

"Even with the drugs," Weiss sniffles, "it feels like nails scraping the back of my brain and I just...can't handle it. And that's not everything." she has to stop for a moment, compose herself. "If I fall asleep too close to her, I see her nightmares."

Yang pales, her heart dropping hard enough for Blake to feel.

Weiss looks at her teammates each in turn, chilly blue eyes reddened and begging. "Does that happen to you too?"

"Sometimes." Blake answers neutrally, but her knitted brow telegraphs everything her tone doesn't. Sharing a bed as closely as Blake and Yang do, their common monster has plenty of room to roost beneath it.

"It's about the fight with Salem, isn't it?" Yang finally asks, sounding like her jaw is clenching.

"It has to be, but it's...messed up. Maybe it's the drugs, maybe it's because it scared her so badly but...it's distorted, though I'm certain you're right. Salem, Ozpin...Penny, it's just a mess that I don't know how to deal with." Why she feels the need to leave out the shattering of Crescent Rose, how it would cycle along her link with Ruby over and over and over like an obsession, she'll never know. And it is always so vivid, to the point that she can hear and recreate the chime of the steel coming apart in her head. Gods damn her perfect pitch.

Yang slowly rounds the bed to where Weiss sits and comes to stand beside her, putting her hand to the smaller huntress' shoulder. Weiss shudders, her hands rubbing her upper arms rhythmically in an attempt to better steady herself. It doesn't work. A few mascara tinted tears roll down her cheeks before she can stop them. Her face scrunches up with the urge to cry that she suppresses as best she can.

"It's killing me. I can't do anything to help her, and I've tried." Weiss shakes her head and looks at her hands. "All this power and it's  _ useless _ . And what's worse, I have this awful...I don't even know what to call it! Just something is telling me to take back my mark and walk away from her." she looks up and Yang and then to Blake, looking desperate. "You know I wouldn't even  _ dream _ of doing that, right?"

"Of course we do, princess."

"It's your compulsion, likely." Blake tries to stay stable. She can feel a dull buzzing across her bond with Yang, her anxiety translating like a warning. "It probably sees Ruby as a liability right now, so it's trying to make you cut your losses."

"But I  _ couldn't _ ," she cries.

"We know." Blake assures her with a nod. "We know you're better than that. After all, you came here for her sake, right?"

Weiss nods then continues, "Yes, as much as I wanted to stay with her, I knew it would get too tempting after much longer. But what am I going to do? I can't stand to stay away from her, no more than either of you could stand to be away from each other. A-and...and what if she gets worse? W-what if she  _ dies _ , or-or _ turns into something like Pyrrha _ ? Oh my god, I can't... _ I can't _ ," she's right. She just can't. She can't hold back the tears and collapses again, sobbing into her hands.

Yang and Blake exchange glances and thoughts between them for several seconds, trying to suss out what to do. Eventually Yang nods and Blake tries straightening up the bed a bit while still keeping herself covered.

Weiss protests a little when Yang kneels down and lifts her up, exerting almost no effort at all to carry the smaller huntress across the room. She drops her on the bed, waiting until her bleary confusion passes before telling her "now take off your heels or I'll do it for you." It takes a moment, but she complies, understanding what's going on here. She really does need to try to sleep, and clearly her teammates were going to make sure she does. Weiss goes a little further after her shoes hit the floor to let down her hair, passing the decorative clip to Blake to place on the side table.

Weiss doesn't expect to love being squashed between them so much. Yang wedges herself in almost suffocatingly close, and maybe it's a little awkward with a sheet separating her from Blake's naked body, but when she thinks about it a little more it's not much different from the communal showers at Beacon. She leaves her worries there and just accepts it, doing her best to bask in the almost sweltering warmth she's suddenly surrounded in. The warmth of summer. Sleep comes fast and pulls her deep, leaving Yang and Blake to chase after.

 

Outside the room, in the hallway just beside the door, a petite woman in a custodial uniform and with bi-colored eyes taps away on her scroll. An almost sinister grin tempts the edge of her lips. 

_ The brats are here. What should I do?  _

She doesn't have to wait long for a response.

_ Stay close, see what you can find out. I want to hear from you again in twenty-four hours. _

Neo sends a quick confirmation and then tucks the device away, going back to selling the illusion as she hears the dull chime of an arriving elevator.

 

 

Author's Note: Okay, again this chapter felt strange, but I have to do a lot of character building again and I guess I just forgot what that feels like. That I just really wanted to write about Weiss crying and I'm not sure why. Anyway, I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to focus more on Pyrrha and actually get her and her family's back story out in the open. If not, I'll definitely have it set up for the chapter after that. Also, just in case there is any confusion, Thana is a trans woman, just though I'd clarify that. Thanks for all the reviews and I appreciate you all!

 


	48. Chapter Forty-Seven

Jaune stands with a large basket in his hands, waiting patiently as Thana fills it with laundry fresh from the dryer. She's speaking to him, small talk as it has been, but he's having trouble focusing as he keeps his eyes on the large male peacock that's staring back at him. It just stands there, head moving in sharp little jerks, while the rest of it stays perfectly still. He's expecting it to fan its tail and honk at him again. It still baffles him that the birds are allowed to roam the house during the day, even though it's been explained to him that they keep rodents and other pests from taking up residence. Were it not for that, Thana insisted that their incredible beauty shouldn't be restricted to the outdoors, and did so with an obvious fondness for the animals.

"Do they bite?" he doesn't mean to interrupt whatever the elder huntress is saying, but he is starting to worry.

"Hm? Oh," she laughs, dumping an armload of warm linens into the basket. "Not unless you give them a reason. Typically."

He swallows, hoping against hope that he hadn't.

"They're usually very forgiving, but once you upset them, every last one in the city seems to know. I'm sure he's just curious, they're like that when we have visitors. And thank you for your help, by the way."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."

"I'm sure Pyrrha will appreciate being in her own bed now that the sheets are clean."

"She seems pretty content in that chair." Or so it seemed. Last night she was awake for a few hours, long enough to eat at least, and she appeared as relaxed as she could be.

"Everyone in the house _loves_ that chair." With a tip of her foot the dryer door flips shut and she gestures for him to follow. "Theron and Haeda made if for me as a wedding gift. Though, after we brought Pyrrha home, it became hers more or less."

Jaune's face flickers with confusion as he walks -the peacock is still tailing him- brow knitting as his brain fights to put certain pieces together even though they didn't quite fit. A few steps ahead of him Thana waits, knowing what's likely going through his mind because it goes through anyone's who isn't from Ithica. But it isn't until they reach Pyrrha's room that he fancies a guess.

"So...you married...twice?"

Thana laughs and gestures for him to put the basket down, still smiling when he looks at her again. "I had two spouses, yes. Rhea and I shared Theron, and Theron and Haeda shared me. And as much as Rhea and I care about one another, it doesn't go further than that and we're content with it."

"...Huh. So," his brain's trying again, his hands working without him as he takes one end of a scarlet fitted sheet and Thana takes the other. "...Pyrrha has three moms?"

"In a way, yes." And she's thinking back to Pyrrha as a toddler, barely knee high to anyone, waddling through the house chanting "momma, momma, momma" and expecting all three of them to come running. When they did, she'd plop in the middle of the floor with her arms up, begging to be picked up and giggling like mad. "But Rhea is her _mother_ , it's her name on the paperwork. Hers and Theron's."

Jaune takes time to process that as the two of them fight the sheet into place, smoothing out any creases once the corners come together. Next they fish out the pillow cases and start filling them. "Wait,"

"Hm?"

"You make it...it sounds like you all adopted her."

Thana nods and says very plainly, "We did. Though," She'll set down the pillow she's holding, turning around to a bookshelf and snatching up a small framed photo. She passes it to him and watches as he looks it over. Behind the glass is a still recreation of a younger looking Rhea, a perhaps thirteen year-old Pyrrha with braces and the first onset of pubescent acne, and a Faunus with a veritable mane of curly red hair, horns that coil like a corkscrew, and darkly tanned skin.

"You wouldn't know they weren't her birth parents." Thana finishes after the surprise comes over his face, putting the picture back where it belongs. "I think that's what made it so easy for them to claim her, for the town to accept it too...she _could've_ been theirs." And it hadn't been for a lack of trying that she wasn't.

For a long time Jaune just looks at her, jaw hanging a little. The shock rolls through him in waves, the gears in his brain grinding for a moment. Until he knows what to think he gets back to sliding pillows into their cloth sleeves and setting them at the head of the bed. It isn't until they're putting the top sheet across the mattress that he speaks up again.

"Is it okay for you to tell me the rest? If it isn't, I understand."

"I don't mind." though a part of her feels like it's Rhea's story to tell. Then again, she still isn't as open to the younger hunters yet and Thana knows the boy means well. She has a sound idea as to how much he cares about Pyrrha, so what's the harm? She finishes tucking in the bottom ends of the sheet and then fishes the heavy comforter out of the basket. "It was before Rhea lost her eye, I remember it was in the Fall because that's our rainy season and it _rained_ so hard that year. The flooding in the lowlands was terrible, and you've been to Caissa so I'm sure I don't need to tell you how bad it had been."

Jaune just nods, pushing creases out of the blanket and adjusting it so the sides are as close to even as possible.

"We were recruited to investigate a series of fires to the southeast of here, three towns razed to the ground in a matter of days; that's why it was suspected to be Grimm, that and there hadn't been any reports of bandits in the area at the time. To this day we still don't know what caused it.

"The first two we came to were already being sifted through by other teams, they didn't find anything, so we pushed on to the last of them and found just about as much. It had to have been the most recent because it was still burning in some places. It was...well, safe to say it was quiet the mess." So long as piles of ash and scorched outlines that faintly resembled bodies qualified as _quite the mess_. There had been a sense of something sinister in the town's remains, something Thana had been able to pick up on like a bloodhound on a fresh scent, but for some reason she had been unable to convince her teammates that it had been anything more than Grimm that did it. And still she would swear it was a human's work. "We spent almost two days combing the place over, and the night before we meant to pack up and leave Rhea jumps out of bed like something bit her." Thana chuckles to herself, picking the basket up off the floor and dumping the rest of its contents -a selection of clothes- onto the bed to start folding. "How she heard that baby crying before any of us I'll never know."

She goes on to describe how the lot of them were torn out of an uneasy sleep as Rhea went scrambling after the sound, Theron close behind her as he was one of the two of them that could see in the dark. Eventually they came to a charred, half caved house that looked a gust of wind away from toppling over. Without hesitation and totally ignoring her husband's plea that she take care, Rhea leaped up to what remained of the second story after the sound. She reappeared several tense moments later, her arms full.

"Pyrrha might have been a month old, give or take. Rhea fell in love with her immediately, and it didn't take long for the rest of us to follow suit. She was so tiny, Haeda could hold her with just one hand."

"I guess you never found her birth parents, huh?" Jaune asks, folding a shirt. Every time he almost reaches for an article of underwear, he pauses, and then quickly tosses it towards Thana. That just didn't feel right for him to do.

"No, they never came forward. And we made the effort. It's the law in Mistral, what with Grimm and bandits separating families on the regular, that you put a notice in with the royal council. It was only a month after that when we had the option to adopt her."

"Not like it was a choice at that point." he laughs a little.

"Oh not at all. We already loved her too much." Thana smiles to herself, remembering again. Remembering numerous nights of sitting in the furred recliner with an infant resting on her chest, gently rocking while Pyrrha slept as babies do. Remembering fondly watching as the others did the same with equal contentment and, especially for Rhea, a quiet joy. Theron would sing to her when he was sure no one was looking. Haeda purred though she would never admit it, and all the while she let Pyrrha use her tail like a security blanket.

She remembers Pyrrha just being a baby, not a celebrity or a champion or an aspiring huntress; just a baby who hurled her food in her parents' faces and threw tantrums for no reason and pulled her father's beard because she thought the way he winced was just hilarious. Learning to walk and piggyback rides and her first tooth and countless other things that made her human, nothing like what the world wanted and tried so hard to turn her into.

Thana sniffles, catching herself before she starts crying. She looks down and sees that all the laundry is folded and ready to be put away, not remembering doing it. She thanks Jaune again, setting a few articles aside before taking the rest to put in the dresser where it belongs. Thank goodness Rhea had been so insistent on keeping Pyrrha's clothes. As she comes back to the bed, the peacock that had been standing behind Jaune this whole time circles around him and jumps onto the bed, the young man jumping and almost falling over.

"They're a bit like children themselves, he's just testing your limits." the huntress pats the bird's head as it sits, its long and grand feathers draping across the foot of the bed. "Would you mind helping me put her to bed?"

He doesn't know why, but he feels heat blossom in his cheeks. "Y-yeah, sure."

"I promise I won't drag you around much longer."

"No, no, I don't mind. Nice to know I'm useful." and he follows her out of the room.

\--

Pyrrha opens her eyes to the ceiling, blinking until the wood and marble comes into better focus. For the first time in a while she feels fully awake, still heavy and boneless in a way, but her brain seems to be working like it should. She knows where she is and she remembers how she got here. She remembers the mug full of soup she had for dinner last night and what she saw on the news while she ate; it was the weather forecast for the rest of the week followed by a bump on the upcoming registration for Haven's Spring semester. And she remembers the dream she had just blinked out of, it was the catfish dream and it leaves her with a wave of nausea that's there and gone again. She swallows, her chest rising with a full and easy breath and falling with a wide-mouthed yawn.

She turns her head this way and that, taking in her surroundings and checking off a mental list of things she thinks should be. Finding them all she starts to stir, trying to unwind herself from the blankets a little. There's a skin deep shock as one hand frees itself, exposed to the much cooler open air as she reaches for the handle of the recliner. Her muscles are fed up with laying in the same position, an itching sensation settling in the fibers and compelling her to move. She eventually finds the wooden post and pulls on it, the mechanism coming undone with a clatter and forcing her into a sitting position faster than she's ready for, making her tense and grunt at the protesting stiffness in her body. Stiffness, but thankfully no pain.

"Pyrrha," The younger huntress is able to lift her head slowly, turning towards the worried gasp that forms her name. Thana comes to kneel in front of her, Pyrrha's focus evenly divided between her white irises and her gold tattoos. "Are you all right?"

She just nods.

"We're you trying to stand up? What do you need?" and she watches as Pyrrha signs. "Let me help you, then."

Jaune watches Pyrrha stand up, his pulse quickening with something he can't settle on a name for. It's part excitement and relief and anxiety, perhaps a part of him is just waiting for her to fall even when she straightens and takes her first heavy steps as she leans against Thana like a threadbare scarecrow. "Can I do anything?"

"Fetch her clothes?" Thana requests. "I'll dress her in the bathroom, and turn down the covers please."

"Okay." and he all but runs to complete his task. When he comes back they're almost half way there, and he hovers close -but not too close- until he can pass off the small stack of garments and receive a nod in thanks. For a moment he lingers outside the now shut bathroom door, that being long enough for him to realize how silly he feels and how creepy this behavior probably is. With a tense shake of his head he shuffles away.

Jaune can't help but wander back into her bedroom, mindful of the peacock still sitting there, judging him as he nears the bed. For a time he pauses, looking around with his hands in his pockets, trying to absorb everything and nothing at the same time. He marvels at the almost military organization of everything, wondering if this is how Pyrrha would have kept it or if it was what Rhea made of it after she...left. It could be both, he considers, or neither as he vaguely remembers the three older huntresses having been in here yesterday tidying it up.

The layout of the room is almost grid like, the furniture and shelves toeing invisible lines that allow for maximum use of the provided space. The bed is situated with its head to the wall, taking up the most space and facing a large window. Beneath the window is an aged wooden secretary, the chair tucked in the space beneath, and forming the far side of a path between it and the foot of the bed. The vacancy beneath the bed is occupied by a selection of drawers, and for a brief instant he can't help but be curious as to what's in them.

Flanking the secretary on either side are more shelves and drawers. To the right is the first of two identical bookcases, and appropriately enough it's loaded down with books of varying sizes, visible age, and languages. He can pick out the letters he knows best right away, and his time in Mistral up until now allowed him an elementary understanding of some of the others, but there's a third kind of script that is completely lost on him. All he knows is that it's beautiful and fluid and something he would get lost in trying to read even if he understood it. One book had " _The Four Maidens and Other Tales_ " clearly emblazoned along its creased leather spine, and he can't stop himself from scowling at it.

The contents of the second shelf only surprise him for a second or two, the time it takes for his mind to process what they are. Puzzles, countless kinds of puzzles and brain teasers ranging from books of crossword puzzles and sudoku of varying proficiency levels -he cringes at the bright red letters on one that boasted _mind-numbing difficulty_ \- to jigsaws with thousands of pieces, and on the top two shelves is an array of puzzle boxes. Cubes and spheres, wooden or plastic or metal, and an assortment of other shapes made up the rank and file that inhabit the shelves. One of them is a combination of a cube, each side capped in a disc, and all of them with colored tiles with individual symbols that had to be aligned in a certain order. Just looking at it made him want to faint. But he looked at them with a certain fondness; he remembers Pyrrha had one at Beacon, shaped like a globe of Remnant, and for the first few days after getting their team assignments she would sit on her bed and solve it over and over. Once they all started warming up to each other, she began to ask them to scramble it for her so it would be more of a challenge. After a while, Nora would do it without being asked and leave it on top of Pyrrha's books to be found and solved, a sort of thing just for them. That one was likely lost when Beacon fell, and he thinks maybe he could get her another one if he ever had more than a few Lien in his pocket. Something similar passes through his mind as he looks at the jigsaw puzzles again, wondering if the four of them could get together and put one together when she felt better.

Maybe even just the two of them...

And at the top of the shelves are four identical trophies shaped like Mistral's royal seal, her awards from the regional tournaments that made her famous.

To the left of the desk is where she kept her clothes, a dresser with six brass knobs going down its front. On top of it looks to be a shrine of some sort, a wooden statue stained a deep cherry red and witnessed by four candles in glass jars. It doesn't look like they've been lit often, only the smallest recess having formed at the base of the wick. Jaune wanders over to get a closer look at it, too curious not to. At a glace it looks like a woman wearing what might have been robes that appeared to only cover her breasts and little else, arms out and hands open, and flanked by two other figures he can't immediately identify. Another moment and he spots the finer details, the woman has antlers like a deer that curl back over her head, almost disappearing into her hair, and the creatures at her sides he could only think to describe as a serpentine dragon and a bird that appeared to be made of fire. At the statue's feet is carved an intricate spread of flowers, fruit, loose maple leaves, and what looked like a nest of briars. Symbols of the seasons in faithful alignment.

Something tells him he should recognize this, a small something that sits at the very front of his mind that just can't seem to define itself. The thought leaves him when he hears the echo of the bathroom door opening, suddenly remembering he still had something to do. He quickly pulls a top corner of the blanket and sheets down, thinking to fluff the pillows a bit as if it matters.

"Ah, our hero," Thana declares softly as she and Pyrrha shuffle into the room. The younger huntress looks more stable on her feet, a little stronger in that she isn't so much leaning on her other mother as she is holding her arm for stability. Maybe it's because she's dressed in more than a thin housecoat, and instead she's wearing a navy, Sanctum lettered sweatshirt with matching sweatpants.

Jaune notices that more color has come to her face and it sparks a small, relieved happiness in his chest that manifests as a gentle smile on his face. He stands at the foot of the bed, ready should either of them need him for anything else, though the time never comes as Thana helps Pyrrha sit on the bed. Pyrrha manages to pull her legs up and settle against the pillows without assistance, and then nods with a handsign of gratitude after Thana offers to make her something to eat when she pulls the blankets over her.

"You won't mind keeping her company for a while, will you, Jaune?" even though she feels she knows that answer. She chuckles when he confirms her prediction with an enthusiastic shake of his head. "Good. The others should be home soon so I suppose I'll put something on for everyone. Let me know if you need help."

"S-sure." he stutters, nodding again. And he watches her leave -thankfully, the peacock follows her- suddenly feeling a weight steadily sit on his shoulders. After a moment he swallows, his eyes shifting away from the empty doorway to the bed. Everything he had been wanting to say for the last week, maybe longer, tries to crowd into his mouth at once, so none of them actually emerge. For several seconds he just stares at her like an idiot, a feeling he's far too familiar with.

Pyrrha notices the minor jump in him when she meets his eyes, eyes that she vividly remembers as always a little naive and kind. Even the rare times he was angry, it never seemed to manifest in his eyes, though all his other emotions did. She had been able to read him so easily for that reason, then again she could've just as easily deciphered his body language seeing as it was as plain as a neon sign blinking in the night. But she remembers always having preferred to make eye contact with him as much as possible. The difference now being she can see the marks on his face left behind by her claws. After a spell of them just gawking at each other, she gestures for him to sit down.

"S-sorry. Thanks." He thinks to sit on the bed because he wants to be close to her, then he thinks that would be awful presumptuous of him. He takes a step back, bumping the chair at the desk and wedging it up against it before scrambling to recover and pull it out. He just can't make his brain work right, unable to make himself put the chair back on all four legs before trying to pull it loose. Just feeling dumber by the second he abandons it and decides to be rude and sit on the foot of the bed.

Then it's quiet again and something about it feels worse, he still has to force himself to say anything. "It-it's good to see you getting around a little. Guess Tag's work is finally paying off."

She just nods, her expression neutral and tired.

"Is it..is talking still too much for you?" he asks hopefully, only to receive another nod. "Oh, okay, that's fine. It's just...I'm trying, but I haven't picked up much of the sign language yet." then he suddenly perk up, having idea. He reaches into his pocket and find his scroll to offer to her. "You can text me." Although it sounds sillier out loud. Jaune smiles with quiet surprise when she actually takes it because part of him is still convinced this is some sort of dream.

Pyrrha holds the device in her lap, seeming uninterested as her expression never changes. After a moment she starts carefully tapping the screen, mindful of her claws. She turns it towards him with a simple message: _Thana will teach you if you ask._

"I'm not surprised." he chuckles breathily. "She's really nice. All...your moms are pretty cool." it's weird to say, feels odd as it passes his teeth. He watches as she begins typing again, waiting to read what she has to say. "...No, I guess I'm not used to it. I mean, I always thought a family was, you know," he tries to think of the least ignorant way to say it, "you know what, I'm not going to make excuses. I've never really seen a family like yours, but they're good people, I think. I mean, look how you turned out, right?"

Pyrrha just inches her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he exhales, "listen, if you don't feel up to this, just tell me and I'll leave you alone. You probably want some more sleep."

_I'm awake, but if you want to leave, I won't stop you._

"No, no," he waves his hands out in front of him, "it's not that. I just don't want you to overdo it, that's all. As much as I would like to think that you're doing better, it isn't like you'll be hunting Grimm again any time soon." another shrug of her shoulders has him feeling stupid again. Instead of looking for the right or best things to say, instead of trying to be too careful, he just says what he's thinking. "I'm...I missed you...a lot. We all did. And we're really glad you're back." And while part of him doesn't expect a response, he's still a little shocked when she doesn't offer up any sort of reply.

"Can I ask you something?"

She just nods.

"Just how much _do_ you remember? I mean, if you don't want to answer, you don't have to. I'll understand." and half way through the statement he watches her starting to tap the scroll again. Then he'll read a one word response.

_Everything._

His face stretches. "Oh. Okay." and heat rushes into his face, countless questions trying to crowd the inside of his skull again. He swallows, thinking twice about all the things he wants to ask. "Y-you know, we don't need to talk about that right now. That can wait, right? Yeah. How about...can I get you anything?" because right now he just feels like the biggest idiot and thinks the best thing to do is get out of the room, just for a minute.

But she doesn't ask him to leave, or make a request that requires him to do so. Still looking indifferent she scans her room, pondering one of the bookshelves before making the shape of a box with her hands, then twisting it until it dawns on him what she's asking for.

"You want one of your puzzles? Okay, sure," and he's happy to move, anything to break some of the anxiety in his body. "Which one?" He picks up each of them one by one, waiting for a nod of confirmation that comes when he picks up the one that made him mentally cringe earlier. Without being asked he begins to scramble it, shaking his head, marveling at how anyone could be wholly unkind enough to devise such an object in pursuit of _fun_.

Jaune wanders a little, too wrapped up in what he's doing to realize she isn't watching him, she's fussing with his scroll. She'll find his catalog of pictures and sift through them, no visible reaction as she does so, not that he would expect one. Pyrrha remembers all the events in the photos, though she can't recall them having been taken save for a couple. The photo from the dance draws her gaze the longest, her attention unbroken until Jaune clears his throat.

"This is a pretty neat statue." he lilts his head towards the little shrine on her dresser, his hands still turning the puzzle no certain pattern. "Can you tell me about it? I mean, if you want to," And he'll keep twisting the sides of the puzzle as she types, offering to trade with her once she's finished. She takes a moment to study each side of the contraption before diving right into solving it.

_That's Thana's patron, Cybele. She made that for me after I decided to become a huntress, for protection. She's the religious one in the family, so I don't know much else about it. Though I'm sure she'd be happy to tell you everything you want to know._

As hard as it is for tone or intent to be telegraphed through text, Jaune has a sinking suspicion that something just isn't quite right. Like his vague familiarity with the centerpiece of the small shrine, it's on the tip of his tongue without a name. It's something about the language she used, coupled with her air of overall indifference that's setting off a dull warning in his head. Although both of those clues could be explained away as symptoms of her incredible fatigue, which he tells himself to do that instead of suspecting her of something she isn't guilty of.

By the time he pulls himself out of his thoughts and looks at her, she's already solved the cube and is offering it to him. He asks if she wants him to scramble it again, happily obliging when she nods.

 

_(II)_

There's no pain. For the first time in a week there's absolutely no pain. When her conscious rises high enough to notice, it feels like her brain breathes a sigh of relief, finally free of a prodigious burden.

Ruby opens her eyes just a little; the light in the room is dim, looking like just whatever sunlight there is outside is coming through the window, but it's enough to make her recoil and snap them shut. She tries again after moment, blinking until she gets used to the light. She's laying on her side and she can see her father in a chair beside her bed, his head tipped back uncomfortably far but appearing to sleep soundly. She chances to move, barely making an effort before giving up as a wave of fatigue swamps her. She tries to speak and finds her tongue heavy and her mouth dry. Finally she thinks to reach for him, a little grunt working through her throat as she just reaches his arm with her fingertips.

Taiyang shakes himself awake to the insistent but meek poking against his arm. He rubs his hand over his face, getting the sleep from his eyes before turning his head. He seems to light up in spite of the obvious weariness written all over his face.

"Hey there, sleepy head," his voice is soft and fatherly as he stands up and leans over the bed, taking one of her hands in both of his and kissing the knuckle. "How are you feeling?"

Ruby swallows the thickness in her throat, hoping that helps. "What day is it?" she rasps.

"It's Thursday, you've been in the hospital," he stops to do a bit of math, "today will be five days."

She nods slowly, taking a deep breath just to stretch her ribs.

"How's your pain?"

"I'm okay."

Tai audibly exhales, relieved. Having watched her languish in agony for the last three days liked to have killed him. She's still pale and frail looking now, but at least she's awake. "I'm so glad to hear that, honey."

"I want to get up." because her whole body is itching from being too still for too long, and all she wants is to stretch as far and as hard as she can in spite of a little cautioning notion in her mind not to.

"You have to take it easy for while yet, you've been out of surgery for only a few hours." Ruby looks up at him with unmistakeable confusion, compelling him to go on. "The doctors needed a closer look at that wound in your side, so they did an exploratory procedure and managed to get some of the mass out."

The explanation seemed to do little to soothe her bewilderment, but Ruby decides she's too tired to worry about it for more than a minute or two. "So what was it?"

"They don't know yet, at least I'm assuming as much since I haven't seen anyone but a nurse since last night. In any case, hopefully this means you'll finally start getting better."

She nods again, sighing. "Can you help me sit up?"

"Sure, baby."

Tai will fetch a couple of extra pillows from the cabinet beside the bed, situating them with the others as he gives Ruby his arm to grip. He can lift her no problem, and helps her scoot up against the stack of pillows until she's mostly upright. "Is that okay? Too much?"

"It's fine, daddy, thank you."

He nods, briefly lost because he doesn't know what to do with his hands. All he wants is to hold her and take her home and shield her like a good father should, but he knows she needs to stay put where the proper people can take care of her -but _he's_ supposed to take care of her and...parenthood is _hard_. "Can I get you anything?"

And in spite of her thirst and the steadily insistent hunger she feels, she asks "Where's Yang and the others?"

"They're probably at the hotel. I was going to call them once I let the nurses know you're awake."

"Okay. I'd really like to see them." because even with Tai here she feels isolated and susceptible. Like a vital part of her is missing, leaving her exposed. Just acknowledging it made her clutch the blanket a little closer.

"I'll make it happen, don't worry. You just relax and I'll be back." He kisses her head before leaving the room, his absence tangible to her almost immediately.

Ruby puts her hand to her side, her palm resting over where she remembers that horrible, blinding pain having come from. Her brain manifests the memory of that awful thing twisting inside of her like an icy, slimy worm and she feels her stomach lurch. Even now, knowing some of whatever it had left behind had been removed, something doesn't feel right. It's that sensation of vulnerability, like something sharp and huge is dangling over her head by the thinnest thread. Sure enough she doesn't see it when she chances to look up, but she doesn't have to. She senses it with no way of knowing when it would drop, but she is certain it will.

She finds the Maiden mark on her wrist and strokes it with her thumb, hoping to find some comfort.

 

_(--)_

Salem is awake.

First noticed by a technician as he went about his routine tasks, recording numbers and so on, he didn't even finish as he rushed to fetch her primary physician who had to be called at home as it was the middle of the night. Within the next hour the doctor arrived and went about a very by-the-book procedure of gathering new information, the first step of which was trying to establish whatever level of lucidity the Witch had. Common practice is to ask a series of simple questions that range from the yes-and-no variety to general knowledge, such as the day and time and location. But there is no response. The following battery of basic sensory and motor function tests only reinforced the notion that Salem wasn't at all aware of the doctor's presence. And this is how Glynda had it described to her later that morning.

"So...some form of catatonia?" She asks, hoping she isn't oversimplifying it, but she needed it because it's too early yet.

"That's what it appears. I've scheduled another series of tests, brain scans and the like to make absolutely sure this isn't stemming from a sort of injury or infection that we simply aren't seeing."

Glynda nods slowly, rubbing her eyes and then adjusting her glasses. "Could it be the result of traumatic events? Not necessarily actual damage to her body, but shock?"

"I've seen it before, so it's possible." the doctor nods. "I'd ask, but I get the distinct feeling you can't tell me what she might have been involved with to wind up like this."

"You'd be right. My apologies, but I'm not at liberty to discuss the details."

"I used to practice in Atlas, so I'm used to hush-hush work. All the same, I'll do my best to at least rule out everything I can. Once I have all the results together I'll relay them to you."

"Thank you, doctor." and the Witch takes leave back down the corridor. Her mind is buzzing with theories and curiosities, all of them leading up to the same conclusion. She'll consider it further if the tests yield nothing conclusive, until then, she keeps it tucked away like a secret.

Her scroll hums in her pocket, making her jump in a way she was glad that no one saw. She'll find a message from Qrow, a request that she meet him up on the fifth floor. She doesn't rush, but she doesn't dawdle either, making her way to the nearest elevator. She'll share the short ride with a much smaller nurse who seems absorbed in the tablet she's holding.

Glynda steps off the lift, visibly surprised that Qrow isn't waiting for her there. She looks down one corridor, then another, and then down the hallway right in front of her to spot his unshaven and drawn face at the other end, setting herself into an even walk towards him.

"New development?" she asks once she's close enough.

"Possibly." he settles in beside her to match her steps, though he's leading her. "You know they took Ruby to surgery."

"I'm aware. How is she doing?"

"Just heard from Tai she's awake," he clears his throat, not that it helps, "gonna go see her after this." Glynda just nods and he takes that as leave to continue. "But they pulled something out of her and I figured you should see it."

"What is it?"

"I have a few theories, but I want to hear what you think first."

It's too early for her to decide if she's irritated or unsurprised, so she says nothing and simply follows.

The fifth floor is home to the hospital's small collection of laboratories as well as the quarantine wing. Qrow leads her to where the two types of facilities are the closest together, a security guard letting them in through a heavy, stainless steel door that slides open with a hydraulic hiss after he slides his I.D. card through a reader and puts in a code. Inside the room is a number of instruments and tools arranged on counters -microscopes and the like- most of which are being attended by a technician in white. In the middle of the room is a table; there's a doctor at the head of the table that's holding her scroll like she's recording something, and under the gaze of the camera's eye is a sealed petri dish sitting in Billy's big hands. In the dish is a black, glistening and clotted mass no bigger than the cork on a wine bottle.

"What's going on here? First steps?" Qrow crosses his arms, winking when the doctor looks at him like she is having _none of that_.

"In a way." Billy nods. "It started to move."

"So I'm gonna guess you're holding onto it in case it gets too excited?"

"And I have my own suspicions. According to these people it has no way of moving, no means as we do, yet it wriggles about in this container like a worm. Also, I don't believe it likes me."

Glynda's face scrunches. "That sounds ridiculous."

"Watch." Billy sets the glass dish on the table and pulls their hands away. For several seconds the clot is still, and then the Fauna touches one rim of the dish with their finger. The mass shudders and flinches away almost immediately, wedging itself as tightly to the opposite rim as possible. Qrow and Glynda make the same face, brows peaking almost in unison. The doctor watches through the lens of her scroll, visibly interested in what it's capturing.

"Isn't that something." though he doesn't sound at all excited. "Why do you think it's doing that?"

"Silver." Glynda says certainly.

"Then how come it didn't try to tear its way out of Ruby on its own?"

"Maybe her powers just aren't strong enough yet. Her aura was already considerably depleted when she and Salem," she doesn't know why she stops herself, but she does, and quickly recovers with a shake of her head. "Maybe it was the nature of the place; Salem said if the Maidens died there the magic would be gone forever. Perhaps," she stops again, maybe thinking her words over again before letting them go.

She takes too long for his liking. "But you make good sense." Qrow nods. "And maybe it didn't want to."

"Pardon?"

"Look at it." he tilts his head. "Looks a lot like the crud that Grimm leave behind before they vanish. And you were pretty certain when you said Salem was possessed, so,"

Glynda's staring at the thing in the dish, looking like she's resisting the urge to worry her lip with her teeth. Then, out of nowhere, "Try to destroy it."

Billy looks up and finds the Witch looking directly at them, those jade eyes somewhat sharp and unsettling. "Very well."

The doctor present makes sure to keep her hands steady as Billy takes the container in their hands again and focuses on it. They all watch, feeling the energy in the room pitch and steadily become tangible like static in the air, but the mass in the dish doesn't react until the thinnest veil of silver light begins gathering on the pads of the Faunus' fingers. It shudders and jerks, looking to twist itself all over the prison its in, those in audience half expecting it to make some sort of mousy, squealing noise. If this thing is alive by any stretch, it had to have been feeling incredible pain.

The platinum light surges, the mass plastering itself like a web against the lid of the dish, and then it just as quickly shrivels up into a ball like a wad of chewing gum. It loses its glossy sheen, becoming dull, appearing to be no more than a pebble of charcoal. The silver glow dies and for another minute they all just stare at it.

"Well if that don't-,"

"Wait," Glynda cuts Qrow off. "Look,"

The pebble started moving, its roughness and weight clinking against the glass as it bounces about inside the container. In the span of a few seconds it softens, begins to shimmer like slime, and take on its fleshy, gelatinous state once again. However, after that, it just lays there.

Qrow's sooty eyebrows are at his hairline again. "Well...shit."

"Quite."

Billy sets the petri dish down, looking more relaxed now that they don't have to touch it. "It's like the Old Ones, isn't it?"

"So it seems. But so quickly?" Glynda shakes her head. "I understand that was a comparably small piece, but...heaven's above."

"So either your sister had one of the Progenitors inside of her or,"

"Don't say it." Glynda snips to cut him off again. "I know what you're thinking and I don't think I can hear it right now."

He seems put off, but lets it slide. "So what do we do? And what about Ruby?"

It takes her a moment to answer, her mind absolutely roaring with thoughts. Some pieces fit and other don't even though she's convinced they should. There was no knowing if Ruby could expel this blight on her own or what would happen if she couldn't. And if it was the Mother Grimm - _gods' grace_ \- what could they possibly do if it manifests beyond what it has already? Had the root of the Grimm tried to spread itself beyond the mirror using that poor girl as a vehicle? Was that even _possible_? The only ones who could possibly have any certain answers are unable to give them; one by death, the other due to being lost in her own mind.

 _What_ _ **do we do**_ _?_ "I...I need to speak with Tag, she needs to know about this. From there..." she's quiet a moment, looking like she just blanked, then she looks at Billy again. "Or perhaps you would prefer to speak with her?"

Billy meets her gaze with their own, looking indifferent yet shifting anxiously in their seat until they stand up. "It's better you do it. You understand this."

"But I can explain it to you." she continues, but they don't respond. They only ask for permission to leave and do so.

Once out in the hall they stop abruptly, almost plowing over the tiny nurse with her tablet, not thinking of it when she apologizes with a hand sign and they reply out of reflex the same way.

 

 

Author's Note: Next chapter is going to be rather...something, it's the best I can describe it at this point. I have some exposition to do, some more set up, but a gigantic plot point is very likely to drop next chapter, so brace yourself. Thanks to everyone for their patience, and I'll try to catch you next week!

 


	49. Chapter Forty-Eight

Emerald barely remembers feeling Cinder getting out of bed, which is quite the feat considering how small the cot is and how close they had been pressed together throughout the night. What she does remember is a scroll chiming, a plastic vibration against the floor, and a few muffled expletives against her shoulder before she slips back into a shallow sleep.

A few moments later she would be fully awake, finding the other side of the cot still empty as she props up on her elbow before shifting onto her back. One hand tugs the blanket up, holding it against her bare chest as she squints through the dull darkness of the room to the pale figure that looks to be pacing back and forth. Cinder does that when she's anxiously waiting, either stalking like a caged animal or strutting like a cockerel, depending on the nature of what she's anticipating. At the moment Emerald isn't sure which it is, be it because of the lingering sleep in her eyes or that Cinder's posture seems to morph like smoke from one to the other.

Finally the Fall Maiden pauses mid-stride, her chin tucking to look at her scroll, the light from the screen framing her face and allowing Emerald to make out the way a grin slices smoothly across her mouth. The grin blossoms to show teeth, her bottom lip caught between them to stifle a breathy, comfortable chuckle. Letting her hands drop to her sides Cinder starts back towards the cot, that peafowl-like swagger in her strides and that grin hanging on her like her favorite jewelry. She'll drop her scroll in the pile of her clothes before easing back under the blankets, drawing visible surprise from Emerald as she settles on her back and lifts her arm with an inviting gesture. The thief accepts, a spark of happiness in her heart of hearts as she tucks to her Maiden's side and rests her head against her shoulder. Cinder's arm hooks across her back and settles on her waist, the pale woman's natural warmth surging through her.

"Must have been good news." she murmurs, knowing Cinder wouldn't be so generous otherwise.

Cinder hums, more like purrs as she inches deeper into the pillows. Her hand begins stroking Emerald's side, idly thrumming the girl's ribs. "It's taken a week, but Neo may have _finally_ found where that old bitch has hidden my focus."

Emerald wants to tense but forces the notion down, and she doesn't allow any coherent thoughts to form on the chance that her Maiden might catch wind of them in the aether. Though it would be possible for Cinder to miss them altogether, seeing as she's just too caught up in herself at the moment.

Cinder swears she can almost taste it, that ever elusive something she's been feeling...maybe forever. An emptiness that had only yawned wider as she grew older, more powerful with her head full of Amalthea's words that had steadily gained weight and meaning. The Witch had always told her she was special, _different_ , that she was destined to become something the likes of which Remnant had never seen. And she believes it, just as she believes that her focus is the key to it all. Her heart flutters hotly at the thought of it.

"Soon." Cinder exhales. "Soon I'll have everything I need. And then I'll have everything I want."

Somehow, though she'll never understand, Emerald feels a little brave. "What is it you want? Really?"

The Maiden's chest rises and falls with a deep breath, maybe as she weighs the question for cause to correct her, remind her Guardian of her place. "Anything. Everything. Doesn't matter. What matters is I'll have the power to take it as I please."

"And then what? Will you be happy?"

Cinder scowls reflexively. Happy is such a frivolous notion, one she's poorly acquainted with due to its notorious brevity in her life. "It has nothing to do with happiness -it's about satisfaction. It's about purpose...destiny." the scowl depends, defiant, determined, her dimly glowing eyes fixed on the warehouse wall across from her. "Remnant  _belongs to me_ ."

Emerald's body tightens, a certain anxiety passing over her like a specter and compelling her to lift her head. When she musters up the guts to look Cinder in the eyes, she finds that scowl and those fixed eyes and feels a rough shudder go down her spine -she's dead serious and it's more than a little terrifying, and Emerald finds no comfort when the expression softens into something else and Cinder looks at her. There's a dull pop of hot static when the Fall Maiden's knuckle brushes the other woman's cheek.

"I'll still take care of you, don't worry."

But that isn't at all what she's concerned about -although, if she had been, she'd feel a stab of sarcasm at Cinder's supposed definition of "take care of you". Emerald can't help but wish things were different, that it was another lifetime where Cinder really loved her instead of just charmed her into doing all these awful things to innocent people, a lifetime where she didn't mentally flinch whenever Cinder's hand was so close to her face. And sometimes she wishes they had never met. 

But then she sees Cinder's face, like the one she holds now, and remembers that Cinder is human too. A human being who's been hurt one too many times and just wanted the pain to stop even if for a moment. Pain that she seemed to believe, at times, that only Emerald could soothe -and at others, only power could sate.

"I'll take care of you and Neo, and Mercury once we find out where he's gone." though she knows damn good and well where she'll find him. "Everything will be mine and I'll share it with all of you. Just imagine," Cinder smiles and chuckles again, "you could be a queen. I'll give you Mistral as a gift, or would you prefer Vacuo?"

In truth, all Emerald ever wanted was a safe place to call home and to never have to sleep on an empty stomach ever again. After that, maybe a family to love her, but she had never considered just having an entire kingdom dropped in her lap. How could a homeless waif like herself ever dare to dream so big?

"A lot to consider, isn't it?" Cinder is still smiling. "I suppose it isn't important right now, we've still got a long way to go." she sighs and tightens her arm around Emerald, encouraging her to lie back down. The Maiden laces her fingers through Emerald's hair like she's stroking a beloved pet, her expression still bright with a sort of quiet pleasure. Things were going her way, so why not be happy? "But soon." she finishes, kissing the top of her Guardian's head. "Soon."

After a moment Cinder hears the hum of her scroll vibrating again, carefully reaching for it as she's rather certain Emerald has fallen back to sleep.

_I think I'm at Goodwitch's manor, her and the drunk just went inside._

_Let them go, case the place and find a more discreet way in if you can. Contact me again in one hour._

She drops the device back into the pile of clothes, thinking there was no need for further discussion; Neo has her orders that were more than clear, and marked as she is she has all the tools necessary to follow through. Cinder settles back in, comfortable, confident, content to lay there and fantasize about the day she'll shake this whole world to its foundations.

 

_(--)_

Glynda hurries through the house because something doesn't feel right and she isn't going to stick around and wait on it. Her strides across the floor are swift and full of purpose, and her cutting request for Qrow to stay put echoes through the otherwise still room. From the entry hall she quickly makes her way through the hall of statuary, the stone knights and winged monkeys keeping silent vigil as she passes. Then into the corridor of stained glass, desaturated fractals of color glittering across her form. She comes to the heavy wooden door that keeps the heart of the house closed off, bracing herself with a breath before turning the lock with a flick of her wrist and pushing inside. There's a sharp tugging sensation in the back of her brain as the convergence beneath the floor snatches her magic away, and she only staggers a little as she continues across the room.

Glynda moves to the wall, her hands forming around the wooden brackets of the picture frame and lifting it from the wall. Tucking the picture under her arm she uses the pad of one finger to trace the seam only she can see, drawing a square on the wall that lights up with a pale green glow. She pushes in on the panel and it pops back, allowing her to pull the hatch open. Without a second thought she quickly reaches inside, sensing that not-right something as if it's just over her shoulder. Out of the darkness of the tiny vault comes a tube of lacquered wood, natural ribs along the length suggests a section of bamboo treated and stained to a dark, rich red. Glynda holds it beneath her other arm as she quickly closes the safe and puts the picture back on its hook. Once she's certain it's  _exactly_ where it belongs, she turns on her heels and leaves the room, locking the door behind her.

Qrow and Glynda exit the house together, and Billy is waiting for them beside the gray sedan with the royal seal emblazoned on the doors. As Qrow rounds the far side of the vehicle, the Faunus opens the door for Glynda, the Witch being almost squashed between the two of them out of precaution. This was sensitive work they were doing, and if Cinder decided to move against them now, out of the three of them Glynda needed the best chance to get out alive. Thankfully they make it back onto the main highway to Vale without interruption. But behind them, as they steadily move out of sight, one of the gargoyles atop the manor shudders and then stands up, Neo's illusion falling away. She'll go about her business undisturbed and unhurried.

 

The ride back to Vale is uneventful, and the three of them return to the hospital within an hour of having left. Glynda clutches the tube to her chest, hidden beneath her coat as she walks with Qrow just inside her peripherals and Billy just outside of them. The object throbs with a dull surge of energy, like a lethargic heartbeat. As she comes closer to the hospital entrance it grows warmer, more insistent, and by the time they're inside and taking an elevator up, it's in sync with her own pulse and almost matching her own body heat. The three of them step off on the third floor, and Glynda swears she can feel it pulling her down the corridor. They go to Salem's room, Qrow waiting out in the hall while Billy follows Glynda inside and shuts the door behind them once they're certain no one's around.

The room is dimly lit and quiet. Glynda all but tears out of her coat, not seeming to care that it drops to the floor. Part of her is in too big of a hurry, another part of her wants to be rid of this damn thing she's holding because it feels alien. In a few quick strides she's at her sister's side, reaching out to cup her shoulder and gently shake it in an attempt to wake her.

"I certainly hope you know what you're doing." Billy watches from the foot of the bed, feeling their instincts bristling. The magic they had been feeling in the car had followed them into the room, all the while steadily intensifying until the Faunus swears there's some other, invisible someone in the room with them.

"I'm  _fairly_ certain." Glynda says finally, still trying to rouse her sister. "Worst case scenario...it blows up in our faces and kills us all."

"Ah. Well, if  _that's_ all,"

At last Salem opens her eyes, dim blue irises focusing behind fluttering lids until her consciousness fully rises. She doesn't stir or respond, seeming to just stare blankly at the ceiling, although she appears something like alert after only a second or two. For a moment Glynda just watches her, perhaps expecting her to do something, reacting to what she had brought into the room with her.

When there's nothing else, she looks at Billy. "Sit her up, if you please."

Billy just nods and eases over to the woman in the bed, one big hand pushing underneath Salem to fan between her shoulder blades and lift upward. They steady her until she's upright, her weight centering and keeping her in place. Still Salem just stares ahead, disregarding of anyone and anything else. The Faunus stays near as Glynda perches on the edge of the mattress, laying the bamboo cylinder across her sister's lap. Her pulse has quickened and she's anxious, just waiting through seconds that feel like little eternities for Salem to...do something,  _anything_ . When she feels like too much time has passed, Glynda takes up the cylinder again and twists one end, the seal breaking and the cap coming off with a dull pop. The energy in the room pitches, Billy can feel it as a tremor down their back. The Witch tips the tube until its contents slide into her waiting hand -what looks like a scroll of some kind, though not one made of paper. She'll only hold it briefly, the magic stored inside of it waxing with enough intensity to almost burn her hands. Glynda all but drops it in Salem's lap.

One sable brow twitches, and she blinks. Then something unnameable flickers across Salem's face. Her hands move slowly, like a puppet's hands, to take up the long, slender bundle. With her eyes still fixed forward she unfurls the scroll, revealing it as a stretch of fine fabric found only in certain regions of Mistral. Blue silk, and within the right angles of it is a rectangle of silver, threads of it embroidered so tightly and so perfectly that the grain vanishes to leave a pristine, mirror like surface. Salem holds it up in front of her, now looking to stare into her own reflection. The magic in the room mounts again.

"Do you have a knife?"

Billy's head jerks when they realize Glynda is speaking to them, then they nod and reach back for the flint dagger they kept hidden from hospital security. They pass it to her handle first, receiving a nod of thanks, and then their face twists in confusion as they watch her take Salem's uninjured hand and form her lax grip around the knife. "Is that-,"

"Just a moment,"

And they wait, watching, neither of them blinking as the magic moves around them like a heated mist, about to peak.

Salem appears more lucid, a brightness in her eyes that wasn't there before, and she's fixed on the image of herself in the silver threads in a more focused manner than she was only seconds ago. Then she grips the knife, her slender fingers clenching and knuckles paling with tension. The air bristles with static, and then she moves with an uncanny finesse; her arm swings in a swift, upwards arc with enough force for the flint to split the silk scroll at an angle. Her reflection comes undone at the throat and collapses to the bed.

Glynda and Billy are making the same face, features stretched with silent shock. They just keep watching, the Faunus being the only one unknowing of what Salem does next. They don't know why the Witch just drops the knife and picks up the other half of the scroll with her now free hand, pulling the pieces towards her to tuck against her chest where they begin to glow a faint blue. Their head cocks to the side, almost dog like when the blue light bleeds into Salem's skin, following the tracings of veins and clusters of bone, almost lighting her up from inside. Neon filaments course through her, map out her nerves and lace upward into her body, her face, and the light finally pools in her eyes where it fades after appearing to pulse for several seconds. Salem's eyes drift closed, her grip on the halves of the scroll releases, and the cloth falls back to the bed. The silver threads have blackened, lost all their luster, and the air in the room has stilled, cooled now that the magic is mostly gone. Mostly.

Cautiously, like they're reaching for a coiled snake instead of a woman, Billy goes for their knife, quickly jerking it back to tuck away in its hiding place. Across from them Glynda takes her sister's hand, craning her neck to try and look her in the eyes.

At first there's nothing and it makes her anxious. Maybe it's just too soon. Maybe it didn't work at all. "It's Glynda, can you hear me?" But there should be  _something_ , right? A Witch doesn't unmake her focus only to have  _nothing_ change. "Please...answer me."

There's...something. Glynda thinks she's the only one who can feel it, seeing as a glance in Billy's direction shows their expression unchanged, but it's a small change, flickering, like the flutter of moth wings just close enough to her face to feel the movement of the air. Then a cool pulse moves through her hands from Salem, the distinct sensation of a weary aura. Her own heartbeat spikes with anticipation.

Salem's chest expands and contracts with a full breath, like she's waking up. Billy seems to instinctively move away, wary as the once still Witch begins to stir in a more lively fashion. 

"Salem?" Glynda tries again, somehow still hopeful.

Another deep breath as Salem lifts her head, then she opens her eyes. Steadily she scans the room, her chin tipping upward that she might take in the entirety of the room. Billy is the first person she sees, but she says nothing and only shows them a scrunched expression of curiosity. She has no idea that the Faunus remembers her or that they are but a breath away from killing her if this matter should suddenly turn for the worse. Nothing else about the room strikes her as familiar either, not a thing lining up at all with what she last remembers -which, as vague and fragmented as it is, is still obviously anywhere but here.

"Salem,"

She turns towards the sound because she knows it, or at least she thinks so even if it sounds a little different than what is stored in her memory. Though it takes a moment for her brain to process it, Salem smiles at the sight of her sister. The younger Witch clears her throat, looking to be preparing to speak, but then pauses as her smile deflates. Her brow furrows and she gives Glynda a closer look. Finally she says, "You're...you've aged."

Glynda blinks back at her, speechless. Of all the things she thought Salem would say, that wasn't one of them.

"What happened? Did," Salem looks away, towards the Faunus she now isn't so sure if she doesn't recognizes. "Are we still in Menagerie?"

"No, we're in Vale." Glynda manages.

"When did we get here?" Salem's confusion is becoming steadily more apparent, anxiety setting in her eyes. "And why - _ow_ ," she stops, feeling a twinge of pain from her shoulder to her hand, drawing her eyes to see the bandages. She looks up at her sister again. "Glynda, what's going on?"

Glynda shrugs, seeming defeated. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Salem takes a stabilizing breath, though it does nothing to ease the obvious unease that pulls her features. "I...we all took a ship to Menagerie -you, me, Gypsy...and Jarreth." her brows lift suddenly. "Where's Jarreth? Wait..."

The older Witch will watch helplessly as her sister's posture and temperament dissolves into boneless shock; it's because she knows. She's aware of what has happened, what she's done, having likely thought it all some crazy dream until this moment. Salem pulls away and covers her mouth with her trembling hand, her entire body shaking as she hunches forward with wide eyes that have begun to redden with tears. Seems the magic just needed a moment to help Salem's brain catch up. 

"Oh gods." she exhales, her throat audibly tight. "Gods above."

 

_(II)_

Pyrrha is up and out of bed on her own power, staring somewhat vacantly at herself as she combs her hair in front of the bathroom mirror. As uninterested as she appears, she's actually studying her appearance, making mental notes against memories and previous notions of what she thought she looked like versus the reality that stares back at her. She finds herself to be unimpressively the same for the most part, the scars and black streaks only garner a lingering scrutiny of a few seconds. She ties her hair in a high ponytail, how she always has, and allows her bangs and the long hairs at her temples to frame her face per the usual that she once knew.

This is the  _her_ she knows, the one she recognizes, and yet there's still the sensation of looking through a window from another life. From  _outside._ However that doesn't seem to bother her.

In fact, one would think  _nothing_ bothers the fallen champion much anymore. For the last week she has simply slept, ate, and worked her many puzzles with little mind paid to anyone or anything else. Whatever conversation her family or teammates would try -now that she's able to speak again- is met with quick, indifferent and one word responses, something that often wards them off after a fashion. The only one that sticks around is Tag, but she doesn't talk much either, likely much too focused on her continued work of repairing Pyrrha's body.

Pyrrha takes another moment to look herself over, then down at her hands, at the claws on the ends of her slowly flexing fingers before leaving the bathroom and shutting off the the light behind her. Instead of returning to her room she turns to pass through the empty living room and make for the kitchen; in spite of being fully covered up in her warmest clothes, she still feels chilled. A peacock perched on the sofa fans its tail at the sight of her. Before turning in to the kitchen she pauses, ears catching the soft commotion of conversation from down the hallway -Thana's room. Her attention lingers for a moment, picking out the individual voices before moving on.

She moves about with reflexive familiarity, remembering where everything is as she takes the tea kettle to the sink and fills it up before putting it on the stove. Then she plucks a cup from the nearby cabinet with one hand and finds a bag of tea with the other. Afterward she just stands at the counter, the mug between her hands, and waits. Her thoughts wander with or without her consideration, slowly winding through memories, partly to solidify their existence in her mind and partly because she isn't thinking about anything else at present. For a time she appears to be trying to stare through the wall in front of her, but in truth she's seeing something much farther off.

"Ah, here you are,"

She snaps out of her contemplations, only so startled as her head turns to see Rhea stepping towards her. When the older woman opens her arms Pyrrha allows them to close around her, a part of her welcoming the added warmth and the tingle of aura that her body reflexively draws in. She relaxes against her mother, imitating a form of reciprocation.

"I panicked for a moment when I saw your empty bed," Rhea admits with a small smile, "thought I had dreamed everything. Mind if I join you?"

"No."

Rhea tries to shake the feeling Pyrrha's answer pushes on her, the sense of repulsion and the rigid chill of her daughter's words. She tries and mostly succeeds, leaving her only a little suspicious; she's also trying to treat this as if it's their new normal. If this is how Pyrrha is going to be from now on, she needed to accept it as quickly as possible -for both their sakes.

"Are you hungry? Can I make you something?" she asks as she pulls away.

"No, thank you."

Rhea just accepts it, tensing at the mechanical sounding response, and goes in search of her own teacup. "I wouldn't suppose...you might feel up to talking with me for a while? Just the two of us?"

She weighs the request for a second before dipping her chin in a curt nod. "Alright."

An uncomfortable quiet settles in, making itself at home until Rhea notices the very plain cup between Pyrrha's hands.

"Did you look for your Arsenal mug?" the older woman chances, thinking keeping her daughter talking would help them both.

"No."

"Oh. Well, you wouldn't have found it anyway." she inches her shoulders and lilts her head. "After what happened during the Vytal Festival..." she pauses, seeming to catch herself. "Do you want to hear this or..."

"Go ahead."

Rhea clears her throat and starts again. "I'll spare you the details -seeing as you were there- but after that all of your sponsors started terminating your contracts, Theron was livid. I don't think I'd  _ever_ seen him so upset, so he all but ransacked the house getting together all that stuff they sent you and got rid of it." 

Her husband had been actually bleating indignantly as he stomped through the house with a cardboard box, throwing things into it as he came by them all the while raging and half-sobbing at how awful some people could be.  _I lost my baby, and all they ca-a-are about is their god. Da-a-amned. Reputation! They cared when she was making them all that money, sure enough! Ba-a-astards, every la-a-ast one of them!_

All it had taken for her sponsors -such as Arsenal Magazine- to cut all ties with Pyrrha and her family was the last few shattering seconds of the Vytal Tournament finals, when the whole world watched as what they thought was a young girl was ripped to pieces.

Rhea takes a deep breath, expecting some sort of reaction from Pyrrha and getting none -it only surprises her a little. In the moment she thinks maybe it's better that her daughter be emotionally distant. Then her face scrunches, a mixture of curious and dumbfounded. "What really happened that night? I know you better than that, I _know_ we trained you so much better,"

Pyrrha doesn't answer right away, the celluloid reel of memories winding backwards to the proper frames. In photographic clarity she sifts through the stills, one to the next to the next, until she lingers on the moment before everything fell apart. She remembers the roar of the crowd, the almost too bright lights fixed on her and Penny Polendina, and she remembers the sensation of her guts sinking when she comprehended the wall of blades slanted towards her. What she doesn't remember is the panic and the subsequent horror of watching the events unfold -she knows the feelings were there, but can't recall exactly how it  _felt_ .

"It was just after Ozpin made his offer. It...I was distracted."

Rhea's jaw drops and it takes everything she has not to demand an elaboration for such a downplayed response. Things like that simply don't happen when someone is just  _distracted_ , especially if that someone is Pyrrha Nikos. "I...I don't understand."

"No. You don't." and she doesn't see her mother tense and ever so slightly recoil. She's staring down at the empty cup between her hands.

Rhea is still visibly shocked as they eventually make their way to the dinning table, the corner separating them when they take a seat. Uneasy silence swells between them again, mostly because Rhea is still trying to process what's happening right in front of her. She doesn't know what to call it or why she's so cautious, but whatever it is feels more like she's sitting across from an Ursa Major and not her only child. A child that has yet to look her in the eye even once.

Eventually the older woman swallows her apprehension. "I...I'm surprised you haven't asked about Theron at all."

"I assumed father passed." Pyrrha answers plainly. "Last I remember he came out of remission."

She's floored again, and she fumbles before the words come back together in her head. "Y-yes, he did, but...I mean, you were gone for some time, he could have beat it again."

"No. I remember. We were all quite certain that wouldn't be the case. Besides, how could I not notice? Neither of you have said a thing about him, I haven't seen him, and the only picture of him in the whole house is in my bedroom. What was I supposed to think?" And her questions are hauntingly genuine, far from rhetorical as anyone else might have made them sound. "When did it happen?"

Rhea blinks blankly for a moment, struggling to recover. "About six months after the festival, he had just...given up. Losing you took whatever strength he had left."

Theron Nikos had been a natural born fighter. Not a huntsman, but a competitive boxer since he was ten. Had he ever managed to unlock his aura and discover a Semblance then he certainly could have made his way into an academy, but fate wouldn't have it. And by the same token, had he unlocked his aura, perhaps it would have spared him the cancer that surfaced in his bones at the tender age of eighteen. It was shortly after the first time he went into remission that he met Rhea, and the two shared a whirlwind sort of romance that paperback novels are made of. The ensuing years brought them together as husband and wife, found them in a home with Thana and Haeda, and made him Pyrrha's father. And it was when Pyrrha was in her early teens that the cancer came back.

Rhea doesn't know it but she and her daughter are thinking the same thing; they're remembering the therapies and the weeks long stays at the hospital. They're thinking about him in a wheelchair, withered and weak, his hair thinning and falling out just like his once majestic horns. They remember how he would just sleep and sleep and sleep, just like Pyrrha did when she first returned home. And Pyrrha remembers seeing him lying in a bed and part of her waiting for him to pass on in front of her. Like before she knows there was fear and pain then, but she can't seem to recollect how they felt to her at the time -just like she can't remember the determined resolve when she promised to win the regional tournament for him, and in turn made him promise to live long enough to see it.

Theron went into remission a second time, but was only spared the disease for a few short months, until just before Pyrrha received her acceptance letter from Beacon.

Pyrrha takes a long draft of her tea and exhales. "I remember father wished to be cremated, I haven't seen his urn."

"I had to hide it." Rhea swallows after clearing her throat, covering up a bodily flinch. "That and Akouo; those bastards we call neighbors couldn't be bothered to come to Theron's funeral, but they weren't above breaking in here and trying to steal his ashes and your shield -some idiot thinking to make some money off of what was left of your good name and to hurt me out of spite." And all the while she watches Pyrrha across the table, silently stunned how not a single word seems to put an ounce of weight on her. "Still, I could show you the urn if you like. When you're ready, that is."

"Not necessary."

Her mother scowls. Some threshold of her patience has been crossed and her better judgment is looking to give way to a bitter intuition. Something about this entire conversation is  _wrong,_ namely how her daughter had started referring to Theron as  _father_ . Not once had she  _ever_ called him that, he had always and forever been  _Babba_ .

"Pyrrha," she has to make a conscious effort to keep her tone soft, to keep her suspicion invisible, "dear, I know you've been through a lot, more than I can possibly understand, no doubt-"

"You're right."

"But...don't you care? Don't you feel  _anything_ ?"

Pyrrha lifts her eyes, her expression neutral and level, unbothered at the very least, and she answers with no margin for confusion. "No."

 

 

 

Author's Note: If you want to blame anyone, blame Tumblr's weisspresso and wizthewolf for this particular plot point -one that I will promptly elaborate on come next chapter. Thanks for the love and support everyone -things are only going to ramp up from here on out. Admittedly I likely won't be able to give Team JNPR the sheer amount of attention I gave RWBY in the beginning simply because this story just doesn't have another forty chapters in it, but I'm going to do my best to give you folks the biggest bang for your fanfiction buck. Quality over quantity is the order of the day in this act, folks, so just bear with me. Thanks everyone!

 


	50. Chapter Forty-Nine

Thana and Haeda are currently unaware of the conversation unfolding in the dining room, both women caught up in the task of mending clothes and gear with Jaune, Nora, and Ren's help. Thana needs to measure Jaune to ensure his repaired hoodie will fit, and Nora and Ren aren't so much helping as they watch as Haeda teaches them how to mattress stitch -which she seems more than happy to do.

Jaune stands up straight in the middle of the room and a few steps away from Thana's sewing table, he's making small talk about how it reminds him of his sister's which leads to a lengthy conversation about his family. He and the older huntress swap stories as she pulls measuring tape taught across his chest and shoulders, measuring his bust and waist and writing the numbers on what looks like an index card. When she's finished and given him leave to move again, he finds himself aimless, his hands in his pockets as he sluggishly turns in place to look over the room. It's the bedroom the Nikos family had shared at one time, so the bed in the heart of the space is enormous, likely two king mattresses somehow framed together to fit everyone. Each corner of the room is distinctly arranged for a particular occupant, equipped with shelves for little mementos and a desk or some other fixture meant to keep things in.

The walls around Haeda's space are crowded with drawings and paintings, all signed with a leopard's paw print with an H on the largest pad. Rhea's is mostly books split between volumes of mythos and war treaties -she's an avid combat historian and had turned down several university appointments throughout her life to continue work as a huntress. Thana and Theron's work spaces had blurred into one over the years that they were together, both being very capable in making clothing and other textile crafts, and the two had actually met at a fabric vendor's stand on the other side of the Rim. The only way to tell the two regions apart was the lack of dust among Thana's things. After Theron passed, no one really had the heart to touch his belongings.

Jaune gave the corners of the room equal but passive attention; what really caught his eye was the pale marble statue situated just below a window sill over Thana's shoulder. It is almost identical to the one he saw in Pyrrha's room, though much larger, and it looked to have it's own shrine of sorts with offerings of candles and blossoms and peacock feathers at its base. He thinks to ask, pausing when he sees Thana threading a needle through her machine so he doesn't chance startling her into hurting herself. Then he's momentarily distracted when she asks him about his opinion of a zipper on his coat as opposed to a messy reunion of the edges -he consents to it

"Pyrrha has a statue like that," he says after clearing his throat, "said you had it made for her?"

Thana looks up, over the rims of rectangle lenses in a fashion that reminds Jaune of his mother. "I did, yes."

"That's Cybele?"

Thana nods. "At least that's one of her names, it's her name on _this_ side of the Rim anyway. In central Vacuo, where I'm from, we call her Satis. Using her Ithic name made it easier for me to settle in here." then she chuckles as she starts her foot rocking the sewing machine's pedal. "I think there's _fifteen_ different names for her in Menagerie, depending on who you ask -but they all roughly translate to _mother_."

"Why's that?"

"Because she was the mother of the world and the first Faunus, and they were her firstborn."

"That sounds like a story my mom told me," he nods, his hands still in his pockets as he studies the statue. "About the First Witch, Zerline."

"That's her name in Vale and Mantle."

His brows lift and his eyes widen. "Oh. Okay. Huh,"

"Lots of old stories are like that -they get passed along so many times to so many different people, they almost come alive and change. Although a majority of her story has remained the same. She's still the creator of Grimm and the Maidens."

Nora and Ren tip up their heads, their hands stilling as they suddenly give Thana all their attention.

"Would you care to tell us that part?"

"Not at all, just let me finish this pass first. And perhaps Tag would want to hear this?"

"She's been really wiped these last couple days, I think we should just let her sleep." Nora says. Thana just nods in acceptance.

The three teens exchange unreadable but alert glances at one another as they anxiously wait for Thana to finish a series of adjustments to her machine. As her foot starts to work the pedal again she begins where Jaune's knowledge of Zerline ends -when the Mother Grimm was sealed inside of a mirror. When she realizes Nora and Ren had yet to hear the bulk of it, she gives them a brief summary before moving on.

With the wellspring of the Grimm sealed away, that still left humanity to deal with her horrific offspring, the Progenitors. For decades Zerline and her remaining daughter and son pursued them one by one, doing what they could to stem the tide, yet the Old Ones spread themselves too wide and multiplied too quickly, leaving even the First Witch unable to gain significant ground. The older huntress notes that multiple texts spanning all the kingdoms attest that "the Witch began feeling and lamenting her years", which alludes to the idea that Zerline either wasn't immortal or her youth had begun to wane for one reason or another. Nora described it best as "she was old and tired" -the simplicity and truth of the comment making Thana chuckle.

In any case, the notion itself is the cornerstone behind the end of the story. Zerline was exhausted, be it by her labor or her extended life, and needed to devise a way of standing up to the Grimm in a more effective manner than tracking them down on her own power. Humanity needed a weapon they could wield without her and fight for themselves.

"She chose to split herself again, much like when the Mother Grimm was created." Thana sighs as she adjusts the machine again, checking the quality of the seam she had just made. "However, unlike before, Cybele split the  _entirety_ of herself; she reduced her very being into the energy that brought her out of Dust and coalesced into four separate entities that she entrusted to her son until proper keepers could be found to use them, hence the Maidens."

Jaune wanders a little closer to the shrine, his arms crossed over his chest as he absorbs everything. "What about her daughter? What part does she play in this?"

"A fairly small one, unfortunately. There's only one version of the story where she's mentioned, and according to that she wasn't at all pleased with Cybele's choice. She had become disenchanted with her mother's creations, thinking humans just weren't worth saving. If you ask me," Thana looks at each of them over her glasses, "I think by then humans and Faunus were already at odds with each other and she was siding with her own kind in the matter. Which I won't cast blame on her for, considering how much we've hurt Faunus in the long run." and she casts her eyes at Haeda, catching her partner's smile and giving one of her own. "Then again, she might have thought saving her sister was a higher priority. But after that she disappears entirely, no one knows where she went or what became of her."

"Is there anything else about her anywhere? About any of Zerline's children?"

"Well you know about her eldest; I think there's actually a temple dedicated to her somewhere in Mistral, but don't ask me where, and I'm sure at this point you've guessed her son is the Wizard of the Maidens' story."

"What about their names?"

Thana clears her throat and takes a moment to check her seams one more time. Now she could lay out the zipper and sew it in. "Depends on who you ask, though none of them will have the  _right_ answer. Their birth names are assumed to be long gone, and those that worship Cybele gave them names that coincide with their interpretations within the sect. You see the creatures at Cybele's feet on the statue?"

"The Dragon and that bird thing,"

"It's a Phoenix, but yes." Thana grins. "They represent Cybele's daughters with the eldest to her right, then the seasonal decorations at the base is a nod to her son since he chose the Maidens -Seren, Vatra, and Tempus, respectively. At least as far as I know."

Jaune's quiet for a moment, still regarding the statue like he expects it to come alive and tell him something. He's carefully logging all of this information away, slotting it together in proper rank and file with everything else his mind had labeled  _Fairytales_ . Something in his gut is telling him it all means  _something_ , that it's critically  _vital_ , just not right now and he would make a conscious effort to remember it for when the time comes. He takes a breath and looks to Nora and Ren, silently asking for some sort of permission. Maybe they know what he's thinking, maybe not, but Ren gives him a deliberate dip of his chin.

"Would you have a problem with me sharing this with my Aunt Glynda?" and he immediately tenses, mentally berating himself as he wonders what he's broken now.

"Not at all. In fact, the main reason I told you all of that so readily is because I had a strong feeling you would actually believe it. Even some of my neighbors who worship as I do don't put much behind the stories, but they haven't seen what you have. Besides," she swallows, "if it'll help Pyrrha, I'll-" and she cuts herself off.

Thana felt a shift in the energy of the house, one sudden and intense enough for her to notice. And in the following seconds she and everyone else in the room -excluding Haeda- turn their heads to the distinct shriek of wood against marble. Everyone but the Faunus in the room stills, waiting for something else -whatever it was going to be.

 

_(--)_

Rhea snapped out of her chair with enough force to send it skidding a couple inches back, the sound echoing through the house like the cry of a wounded animal. She glares at Pyrrha, fists tight and shaking at her sides to match her posture, and her daughter simply looks back, unaffected. Her mind is full of words, all biting and vicious and confused, but none of them find room to manifest through the tightness in her jaw.

Finally, when she thinks she has it under control, she asks "How can you say that about your father?  _You_ were the only one on this earth that he loved more than me, and now you say his death means  _nothing_ ?"

"That's not what I said." she replies plainly. "I don't feel anything, that is not the same thing."

For a heated instant that explanation seems only to serve making Rhea angrier, her entire body expanding and contracting with a deep breath. A tear rolls down her cheek and she pays it no mind.

"I'm sure I should feel something. I should be heartbroken, but," Pyrrha's eyes shift away from Rhea and settle to look forward, "I'm not. It isn't there."

Rhea's face scrunches slowly with pain and reigned in fury. "You're not Pyrrha." She bites.

"I am."

" _No_ ," she almost shouts, "I don't believe it!"

"Apparently." Pyrrha sighs a little, likely a facsimile of the small inconvenience she doesn't feel. "What will convince you?" because as far as she sees, the sooner Rhea accepts it, the sooner this conversation will end. Pyrrha knows if she could, she would be terrified of her mother in a such a state. Terrified and guilty for having pushed it on her. But that simply isn't the case.

"How the hell am I supposed to answer that? You've been  _imitating_ Pyrrha this whole time, so anything I ask for you could easily give me. Any question I have, you would have an answer."

"It's not an imitation, I would have the answers simply because they're mine. If you think this is some Witch's trick, fair enough, but it isn't."

"I don't believe you!" Because she knows Pyrrha Nikos better than anyone alive and she knows her daughter had one of the biggest, kindest hearts in the world. Whatever this thing is sitting before her, it can't possibly be Pyrrha.

"I know." another tired sounding exhale.

"Rhea, what's wrong? What's with all the shouting?" Thana's voice comes from the hallway.

The older huntress snaps her head to the side, spotting her two other partners along with the three teens following close behind. They all look bewildered, doubly so when they process the look on Rhea's face.

"What is it?" she repeats gently.

"I don't know what we brought home with us, but that is  _not_ Pyrrha!" and she points a striking, accusatory finger at the young woman who simply sits still, seemingly unresponsive.

"Rhea, listen to yourself," Thana approaches with visible caution, her expression hiding something like hurt behind confusion. "Listen, we've been through a lot recently -especially Pyrrha, and she needs us to support her right now."

" _That's_ ... _not_ ..." more tears are rolling down her face as the words die, and she looks unstable with tremors that she's trying to control. "She doesn't  _care_ that Theron is  _dead_ !"

Thana closes in and takes Rhea's hands with both of hers, feeling her shaking that only reinforces the abrasive pulse of her aura. "It's barely been a week, she's only just starting to get around on her own again, she needs more time."

Rhea tears free of her partner's too easy grip. "You're not listening! She said it herself, she feels  _nothing_ !"

Thana's expression pulls with dismay, as does everyone else's -Haeda included once she comprehends what she read from Rhea's lips. Nora in particular quickly devolves from confusion to shock to hurt in the span of a second, feeling like her guts had just hit the soles of her feet.

"And how is that Pyrrha's fault? Rhea, you know how this works, you know how hard it is for some folks to come back; even old women like us who've damn near seen and done it all have to recover. Pyrrha's barely half our age, you can't expect her to bounce back practically overnight."

For a moment the matriarch can't speak, her bottom lip quivering as another heavy tear streaks her cheek. She looks on the cusp of breaking down. "S-something. Is.  _Wrong_ ; why don't you understand?"

"I'm trying to, really, but," Thana shakes her head, white irises darting this way and that as if in search of enlightenment. "It's not that I don't believe you, but I just don't see how this adds up."

"Because you're not her  _mother._ "

"Neither are you."

All eyes snap to the young huntress in the chair, drawn by the relaxed tone of her voice and smoothly delivered statement. Pyrrha looks at Thana and Rhea with equal attention and apparent indifference.

The fury has left Rhea's face, replaced with incredible hurt. "You...y-you can't know that."

"Father told me one day when I visited him in the hospital. He felt that I deserved to know, and because he knew it would have been too hard for you to do."

Both Rhea and Thana know that much was true; Rhea felt as though telling Pyrrha the truth would have felt too much like a lie. As far as she was concerned, she is the only mother Pyrrha ever had.

"Do you need to hear more? Because I can tell you more," the young woman offers nonchalantly.

For a long while Rhea just looks back at her, jaw working helplessly to form some sort of response. When it feels like the words are just about to emerge they die away, lost in the pain and confusion and frustration. Then she appears to abruptly deflate, defeated.

Jaune is stock still, as he had been over the several minutes it took for the events to unfold in front of him. His heart is hammering against his ribs, threatening to jump in his throat, and he feels a wave of heated dizziness pass through him. It's a strange sensation; he's not panicking, he doesn't have this surging dread surrounding a threatening collapse, it's just...what is it? He looks to Ren, finding him stoic as always if not a little tense, and then to Nora; her eyes are glistening and it looks like she's trying to say something but is too scared to let it manifest. Then it hits him; he feels cheated. He feels all the fighting they did to get this far is all but worthless. They had managed to stop Salem, yes, but now it would seem their victory came much too late.

But this can't be it. Couldn't be. This isn't over and he simply refused to accept otherwise.

"Let's ask Tag; she's been closest to Pyrrha all this time, maybe she's found something and just hasn't told us yet."

" _I'll_ ask her," Rhea declared.

"Oh no you don't, not like this." Thana's got her by the shoulders, keeping her in place with visible effort. "Don't look at me with that tone of voice, now  _sit_ ." and she puts Rhea in the chair she had so unceremoniously ejected herself from before with a well-meaning shove, the legs squeaking again. Rhea only glares back at her, knowing this is indeed for the best, but certainly not of the mind to like it. Haeda moves to stand behind her, one big hand on her partner's shoulder in the hopes of soothing Rhea a little.

Jaune hurries off from the dinning room and across the living room, ignoring the snort of the peacock on the sofa as he disappears into the hallway beyond. When he gets to his destination, sure enough the Spring Maiden is still well entrenched in bed, totally concealed by the blankets and coiled in a heap beneath them. He makes several gentle attempts to rouse her, finally succeeding and coaxing her out into the open. She's sluggish and disoriented, almost toppling back into the mattress when she tries standing up. Tag takes a minute to stabilize, fully wake and push her hands through her messy hair before attempting to walk. For safety's sake she concedes to let Jaune walk close to her, his hand bracing the small of her back.

Eventually they come back to the full dinning room, Tag taking up residence in one of the empty chairs -not so much sitting as curling up into it, her legs tucked against her chest and her chin atop her knees. Her tail hangs over the arm of the chair, limp.

"Are you all right?" Ren asks before anyone else can, as most of them are obviously thinking the same thing.

"I probably don't look it," Tag rubs her eyes, "but I'm fine. Just tired." and the dark circles under her eyes are proof enough of it. "So what's wrong?"

"How are you so calm?" Rhea nips.

"Rhea, please,"

"With all due respect, Hunter Nikos, it's because I can't read your mind and I've been awake for all of four minutes. So let's start with an explanation, please."

"I don't feel anything." Pyrrha answers without hesitation or prompting.

Tag's face skews and she cocks her head. "Pardon? As in...anything at all?"

"Her emotions." Jaune clarifies from his place beside Tag. "They're just gone."

The Spring Maiden shifts in her seat, putting her feet on the floor and propping one elbow on her thigh as her other hand massages her neck. Her expression is tight, a mixture of thought and discomfort. "Ah." she says finally. No surprise, no curiosity, just understanding. And she has no idea that Rhea is glaring at her with something almost resembling hate. "I was wondering if there would be anything else."

" _Else_ ?" Thana finally sees fit to sit down as well.

"You know most of it already -her missing aura and Semblance- but I had a feeling there would be more to it. Turns out I was right."

"Do you know why?"

"The Old One is still inside of her." Tag says as she nods. "It's still...together enough to continue feeding on her life force. In fact it's likely been feeding on all of us whenever we're close enough in order to sustain itself. I've been doing my best to remove its remains but it's...difficult. It resists me and the two of them are still so tightly woven together I'm worried too much force would hurt her. Or worse."

"And you didn't think to tell us this any  _sooner_ ?" Rhea's significantly calmer now, but her tone is still razor sharp.

"I wanted to be certain, that's all." she shakes her head this time. "And Glynda tells me her sister is awake and has come to some semblance of normal, so I was partly holding out hope that the same might be true for us." Tag then takes a deep breath, leaning back against the chair. "I'm going to keep trying."

"You're damn right you'll keep trying." Rhea growls as she snaps upright from her chair again, and then storms out of the room. Haeda quickly follows after giving a hurried series of signs to Thana, just slipping into their shared bedroom before Rhea can slam the door. And even after that, tension still hangs in the air like a guillotine.

"I'm sorry." Tag shrugs, her head in one hand. "I'm doing my best, I'm just exhausted." And she's exhausted because she's lonely and depressed and feeling her age for the first time.

"No one's blaming you." Thana's trying to smooth things over, but it's obvious that she's exerting some effort to process everything. "Rhea's just...she's sensitive as it is, but she hasn't been the same since Theron died. If anyone is to apologize it's me, you shouldn't have had to deal with that."

"She's a grieving mother." is all the Faunus says, then her head tips back against the chair, almost like she's nodding off. "I think...I think I'll go back to bed."

"Miss Tag, could I ask you something? Correct me if it's too personal, but...when was the last time you ate? I honestly can't say I've ever seen you in the kitchen since you came here."

Tag's trying to stand up, eyes shut tight when she feels the dizziness again. When she feels herself leaning too far she snatches Jaune's forearm out of reflex. "I'm...pretty sure I ate yesterday,"

One dark brow rises as Thana exchanges a startled glance with Jaune. "And before that?"

"I don't remember. I just haven't felt hungry."

"Sit her back down." Thana's shaking her head as she stands up. "You're not going back to bed until you've eaten something." Then she disappears in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'm  _fine._ " Tag insists, even as the slightest push from the young huntsman at her side is enough to put her down again. He takes the liberty of pushing her chair up to the table, if for no other reason than to make it harder for her to get up again.

"Thana's right, you haven't been taking care of yourself." Jaune confirms gently, chancing to put a comforting hand on her shoulder which she quickly takes up in her own, desperate. He doesn't need to ask what's wrong because he knows, and in a way he understands; she's missing someone, and that can hurt like hell sometimes.

Jaune lifts his gaze and settles on Nora, feeling himself mentally wince at how uncomfortable she looks. He can make out the shimmering streaks of tears on her reddened cheeks and can't miss the redness of her eyes even if he tries, and only now does he notice the whistling of the wind outside the house. She catches his gaze and his body tenses, like he wants to recoil, retreat for his own safety. Jaune and Ren both watch her warily as she seems to pry her feet from the floor and walk towards the table -none of her apparent emotional turmoil visible in her strides.

At first it looks like she means to leave the dining room altogether, but she actually pauses in the space between Jaune and Pyrrha. She looks at her team leader and then to her teammate, pain tugging on her expression.

"Pyrrha." it sounds forced.

The fallen champion lifts her head in response, her face as neutral as ever.

"It really is you, isn't it? This isn't some...Witch stuff?"

Pyrrha takes a breath and finishes her now cold tea without a hitch -though a part of her knows it should disgust her not to drink it hot. "It's not Witch stuff."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" and it's breaking her heart to call her trust into question like this. It's like a waking nightmare that she can't unconditionally believe her. "I mean...we don't matter to you now, do we?"

Jaune feels his gut drop, and judging by the way some of the color leaves Ren's face, his likely did too.

After a moment, Pyrrha answers, "I know that you should. I know that if things were different, you would."

But that doesn't appear to soothe Nora at all. She all but tears herself away and makes a bee-line for the back door, noisily jerking it open and stepping out into the howling winds she's stirred up. Jaune nods to Ren who is already moving after her.

 

_(II)_

She hates the way they look at her, glaring like judges about to deliver their sentence, but Salem knows she has earned this much. Plenty more, to be truthful. The Summer Maiden alone puts enough molten weight behind her gaze to make the Witch feel like confessing -being Summerborn herself, she's more sensitive to it. And even without all that, the sable Faunus has her ears slanted back, and Salem knows enough for that seemingly small gesture to mean something serious. She briefly remembers Raven being very much the same.

Across the small table in her hospital room sits the Winter Maiden, and like her partner she has her back impossibly straight against the wall, legs crossed with her lithe hands folded in her lap. But unlike the Faunus, it is exceptionally clear that she is -at the very least- displeased. Even though her expression is smooth and even like the young woman beside her, the low tilt of her chin and the setting of her eyes makes Salem feel like she's looking into the icy void where death lives.

The three of them wait in uncomfortable silence for Glynda to return; just moments ago she had Weiss and Blake join her in Salem's room with the intent of having a discussion, but then she jumped out of her seat as her scroll went off and ducked into the hallway. The older Witch has a hangup with talking on her scroll in front of groups, however she seems to stomach it when she reappears several minutes later with the device still against her ear -but she's in the process of ending the call as she crosses the room back to her seat.

"Is everything all right, sister?" Salem asks softly, relieved to have someone familiar back in the room. "Who was it?"

"Your nephew."

Salem appears to brighten, gently smiling. "I have a nephew?"

Glynda nods. "And seven nieces so far as I've heard."

"Oh my, yours  _and_ Gypsy's?"

" _Just_ Gypsy's." Glynda corrects, wondering why everyone assumes Jaune is  _hers_ . "I hope you all will excuse my abrupt exit, but Jaune had some new information I needed to corroborate with Miss Rose -the thought came to me suddenly and I didn't want to lose track of it."

"What did he find?" Blake inquires.

"For starters he gave me an update on Miss Nikos. Not great news, but nothing that should genuinely surprise anyone."

"She's alive?" the younger Witch asks.

"Yes." A curt dip of the older woman's chin in confirmation. "Also, he came by another version of Zerline's story that happened to mention her children by name, two of which I was able to confirm with Miss Rose."

"How is she?"

Glynda takes a breath before addressing her sister. "She's improving." is all she'll say on the matter as Weiss shifts the slightest bit in her seat. "But back to the matter; it would seem that you spoke of Zerline's daughters to some degree with Jarreth before..."

Salem visibly tenses, her expression fretting as she mentally finishes Glynda's sentence.

"That and Jarreth's mother." Glynda adjusts her glasses. "Which is what I brought Weiss and Blake in to talk to you about. This matter is just as much about them as it is about you and I, after all." Ruby would be present for this if Glynda wasn't so keenly aware of  _everyone's_ disapproval of her being in the same room as the woman that nearly killed her. That and she's quite certain Ruby would be too terrified to be of any use. 

"No, I understand." Salem nods. "Whatever you want to know...I'll do my best to tell you." but she doesn't know how well she can keep that promise. While a vast majority of her memory is intact, there are some things that still remain elusive.

"Well, as many questions as I have, what's been burning the back of my mind the most is," Glynda thinks for a moment, grasping the words before they try to fly right out of her head, "what do you know about Jarreth's mother?"

Salem blinks, eyes wide, seemingly surprised by the question. "You don't know who she is?"

"Suffice to say I don't, otherwise I wouldn't be asking. You and he were clearly much closer than I was." and there's thinly veiled hurt in the thin lines around her eyes as she shakes her head. "So?"

For a moment the younger sister's brow knits, making her seem somewhat confused. Salem just can't imagine Jarreth having not shared this with Glynda -those two had been thick as thieves almost as long as they had known each other. Her expression softens when she realizes just how little that particular question matters.

She answers at last, exhaling. "Zerline was his mother."

And strangely, though her brain begins to fizzle with shock, Glynda finds a great many mysteries falling into place, lines of reason coming together like the threads of blanket before they dissolve into a mess wrought by Salem's impossible response. For a long moment she just sits with her arms crossed, eyes widened behind her glasses as she lets herself process it. In the corner of her eye she can see Blake and Weiss looking at each other, likely wondering only  _half_ of the things that she is. In the end, once Glynda has accepted it, she only has one question.

"How?" and it comes out in a pleading, tight rasp.

"Did you ever ask him about his Semblance?"

"He could manipulate time, or something to that effect."

Salem nods once. "Yes, he could alter the flow of time around him as well as  _on_ him. He could even wind it backwards."

"He could recycle his lifespan?" Weiss chances.

"Exactly."

Glynda takes off her glasses and props her head in her other hand. Gods above, all of this is making sense and it's fucking  _baffling_ . Ozpin was the son of a Witch - _the Witch_ \- who could undo the effects of time on a whim, likely having lived countless different lives and lived through just as many ages. The first human to walk the earth, and, if Jaune was to be believed, he was also the father of the Maidens.

_All of Ozpin's children must die._

Glynda feels a sharp jolt of realization and it's dizzying.

"Sister...are you all right?"

"Y-yes, yes, I'm fine. Just... _heavens_ , that's a lot to take in." She fumbles with her spectacles in an attempt to return them to their proper place.

"If that's true," Weiss interjects gently, "then how was he not able to restore himself before?"

"Because the realm beyond the mirror is -for all intents and purposes-  _outside_ of time. Once he was there long enough he no longer had access to his Semblance."

"That explains what you said about the Maidens' magic."

"What did I say?" Salem looks at her sister.

"You said the magic would disappear."

The younger Witch appears to think for a moment, brow furrowed. Then she nods her head, albeit with noticeable hesitation. "Yes...yes I believe I said that. Yes, that does make sense; life simply can't thrive beyond the mirror."

"So how were you able to use  _your_ Semblance?" Blake finally cocks her ears forward, but her manner is no less intense.

"To a point, I wasn't using it. The Grimm and I were using one another to survive, so I suppose that was somehow enough to allow me continued use of my craft. But all the Grimm you saw me control wasn't entirely me, it was the creature."

"What was it, then? Was it the Mother Grimm?"

"Her name is Barren." and she thought that to be evidence enough, because the two Maidens and Glynda all nod at the same time and in the same way, appearing resigned. "And she was using me to find a way back to our world. Glynda?"

"Hm?"

"Do you happen to know where Jarreth's cane is?"

"I do, and it's safe. All he told me was that it was the key to the vault in his office."

"Yes." Salem nods in confirmation.

"What's he hiding there?"

She waits a moment, thinking again. "I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable talking about this here. I don't know who's listening."

"Who do you  _think_ is listening?"

"I don't know, but...Cinder had a lot of ears in this city. No telling where she is now." Salem takes a deep breath, her brow tightening a little further. "The last time I spoke to her...or  _it_ spoke to her...I ordered her to kill you."

"Salem, that," Glynda's brain is sputtering, caught off guard, "you couldn't have...damn it,"

"If what happened to you is anything like what happened to Pyrrha, you couldn't help yourself." The Winter Maiden offers, surprisingly gracious though there's still an icy indifference to her tone. "Not that we don't appreciate the fact that you're feeling remorseful."

"I never meant for any of this. I'm  _so sorry_ ." the younger Witch shudders, restraining a little sob that rattles in her chest. Then she sniffles and clears her throat. "In any case, I'd be more than happy to discuss this further when we return to the manor tomorrow."

"Very well." Glynda agrees after a moment. Personally she would much rather have all the information she could get right this second, but she knows not to push Salem too hard right now. Her little sister has always had a terrible habit of shutting down completely when she feels cornered and overwhelmed, and she knows Salem well enough to see it coming on even now. "As little as it is, I suppose you girls will pass this on to the others?"

"We will." Blake nods as she stands up, waiting until Weiss does the same before making for the door. "If you need us later, we'll likely be back at the hotel." And then out they go after Glynda confirms with a nod of her own.

A host of nurses pass them by as they head in the opposite direction, politely giving them a wide berth.

"That certainly was...a lot, wasn't it?" Weiss sighs once they're alone in the corridor.

"Quite."

"I'd like to visit with Ruby a little longer before we go back, if you don't mind," Now that her Guardian was in much better health, being around her wasn't so difficult and Weiss wanted to make up for lost time.

"I was headed there anyway, Yang's getting a little overstimulated."

"Oh? Is she all right?"

"Yeah," Blake almost smirks, almost because there's a little pain in it at the sharp feedback she's getting out of the aether. "She reading Billy the riot act."

"About what?"

"She called them a home wrecker. And by the sounds of it they don't know what that means so she's explaining it to them."

Weiss chuffs. "In excruciating detail, I hope."

"Naturally."

"Good. Which reminds me, I should call Tag. Even if it's just to say hello."

Now Blake smiles more fully. "I think it's nice, this thing you and her have."

The heiress smiles too, comfortably, sincerely. "I do too. It's almost like having a real mother...at least what I would imagine having a mother feels like. It's nice. But we'd best get moving to grab Yang before a fight breaks out."

 

 

Author's Note: This chapter felt weird, and writing emotionless Pyrrha is even weirder. Next chapter I think I'm going to move the plot along a little, now that it seems like all my setup is done -don't quote me on either of those. Questions and comments are always welcome -if you see something that doesn't add up or isn't clear enough, please feel free to let me know and I'll see what I can do. Love you all, see you next week?

 


	51. Chapter Fifty

What a relief it was for Salem to see that of all the things that had changed in Vale while she was...away, the manor wasn't one of them. Throughout the roughly half-hour drive from the city to Queen's Hollow, she finds herself steadily relaxing as unfamiliar suburbia gives way to sprawling meadows and farms, level and well kept asphalt conceding to two and one lane roads with faded lines. She points out a SDC rail depot, a part of her having expected it to be gone after all this time. And when the road becomes flanked by the dense ranks of evergreens and winter-stripped oaks, she lets out a comforted sigh. It feels something like home, a sensation she hasn't held for some time.

Glynda watches her in passing from the other side of the back seat, her mind buzzing off and on with thoughts and questions that she isn't sure she should ask. More often she finds herself starting at the blurred world outside the car window, her knuckles against her chin, ticking off a mental checklist of all the things that had never made sense until now -now that she knew the truth about Jarreth. And what a long list it turned out to be.

How he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, how he had an answer of some kind for almost anything, and how he just _knew_. To him nothing had been random, nothing could truly take him by surprise, and anything could be predicted. Shame he couldn't have predicted all this. Or maybe he had. There was no way of knowing, and that fact made rage surge in her heart that she quickly smothers. Her thoughts are broken up as the car jolts and jumps, the vehicle dropping off of paved road and onto the gravel path leading up to the manor; Salem's resulting giggle is surprisingly pleasant to hear.

When the pale sedan finally stops, three of the four doors open; the two Witches accompanied by Billy step out, their alleviated weight making the car rock when they stand up. The Faunus sees Salem awkwardly trying to get out of the car and offers a massive hand, only nodding when she thanks them for the help. They see Glynda on the far side, notices how she just stares up at her house, almost like she doesn't quite recognize it.

"Still have that uneasiness?" they ask.

"I do." Glynda replies without hesitation, turning up the collar of her coat at a little burst of icy wind. "Part of me feels like I should know what it is."

"Perhaps you would have me walk the house? I could look for anything out of place, I am an expert tracker after all."

"Hm." she nods once. "Only if it wouldn't trouble you."

"No trouble." They assure her. "Best get inside so I can get to it now, while there's still daylight."

"Thank you for coming with us, Billy. Though I can't help but feel as though you shouldn't have." Glynda shuts the door and starts around the read of the car to stand beside her sister. "Miss Rose is still rather fragile, I think."

"Perhaps, but Ruby has her family with her, her team, I think she'll be fine. At least she will be long enough for me to sniff out whatever it is getting your hackles up."

"Again, you have my thanks."

"I was getting tired of that hospital anyway."

"And Raven's daughter scolding you?" Salem chances a smirk and holds down a knowing giggle.

"I won't deny that it was a factor." they concede. And it wasn't so much that Yang had been wrong -they could easily agree with her on almost every point, with the exception of being called _heartless_ \- but mostly that they needed to get away and consider it all. Maybe, just maybe, they had made a mistake. "But I'll be back inside by nightfall if not sooner, just be sure to lock yourselves in tight."

"Naturally." Glynda nods once, passing a few Lien to the driver for his trouble before taking Salem by the arm and walking with her to disappear inside the manor.

The younger Witch remembers the smell of the place, the aroma of age and dust, and pauses just inside the doorway to draw deeply of it. She had always liked this house, loved its huge rooms and staircases, its stained glass that would dance across the floors with the passing sunlight. The gargoyles are her favorite, the numerous winged monkeys that stood guard in hallways and on the roof and in the garden. She fell in love with the house the second she stepped inside it for the first time, back when she was barely sixteen and excited to attend Beacon and eager to follow in her older sister's footsteps.

"I have a room ready if you would like to lie down." Glynda says to get Salem's attention back.

"Hm? Oh, well, perhaps in a while, thank you."

"Then would you like something to drink? Coffee?"

"If you still make it the way I remember, I wouldn't exactly call it a _drink_." and Salem smiles when Glynda shrugs, unknowing that she's rolling her eyes too. "Though if you have any tea on hand, I would certainly appreciate it."

"I do." and single nod. "Though I would imagine you'd want to change first?"

Salem pauses again, looking down at herself dressed in little more than a winter coat that Glynda brought for her and the pajama like scrubs from the hospital. "Hm. Suppose I should. Can't walk around in nightclothes forever, can I?"

"The wardrobe in your room is full, though I'll admit that none of it is actually yours." All that had been packed up and shipped out years ago. Whatever her father hadn't wished to keep.

"I expected as much." Salem then takes a half step towards the nearest set of stairs. "Second floor?"

"Yes, next to my bedroom."

"I'm assuming that's in the same place too?" Because her sister was someone that liked to keep things the same. She goes along her way when Glynda nods, giving quiet thanks in return.

Glynda moves on to the kitchen, feeling herself expand and deflate with a sigh. Part of her still doesn't know how to feel with Salem here. In a way it reminds her of dreams she used to have, strangely vivid dreams in the weeks following Salem's disappearance in Menagerie. That hunt had been particularly hard on everyone involved, and Glynda had retreated to the manor to recover and adjust; in that time she often found herself waking in places she didn't remember having been -not really recalling having fallen asleep- but remembering having conversations at length with her little sister just moments before. When it persisted she scheduled regular visits with a therapist who deemed it a sort of separation anxiety coupled with a delayed form of shock. Four months of treatment helped her level out again, but none of what she took away from that could have prepared her for what she was dealing with now. Because this time she isn't dreaming or sleepwalking, she's wide awake and her dead sister is alive and walking this house just as much as she is herself.

That's why she jumps a little when she hears Salem come into the kitchen, one of the stools at the counter screeching on the tiles as she pulls it out and takes a seat. She's quick to apologize, and Glynda is quick to forgive.

"Do you feel up to continuing our conversation from yesterday?" Glynda asks as she sets a full kettle on the stove.

Salem looks up from the seemingly close study she had on her arm, from the whitened remains of fang marks and healed tears. "Does it have to be right now? I was hoping we could talk a little more."

"Well, we would be,"

"No, I mean catching up. It's been sixteen years or more," her brow knit gently with a certain sadness.

"The information you have could be terribly crucial, Salem, and one of the problems we had before and still have now is a severe lack of it. Gods forbid something happens to you, and we're left deaf, dumb, and blind again,"

For a moment they look at each other, and then Salem sighs quietly. "You were always business first. I don't know why I thought you might have changed."

"Everyone else has," Glynda inches her shoulders, "it only stands to reason that I would as well."

"But you didn't." the younger Witch laughs breathily, shaking her head. "You're so much like mother, it's almost frightening. Have you managed to reach her yet?"

"No, not yet. As I said, it isn't easy to get word to and from Menagerie. I'll keep trying, though."

"What about Gypsy? You said she has children, are there pictures?" she asks, even though she knows her sister isn't one to keep mementos like that. "What about my nephew? Seeing he's involved in this I think I should know what he looks like at the very least."

That much is fair, and that much is really all Glynda can agree to seeing as she doesn't have the other things Salem asked for. She'll fish her scroll from her pocket and sift through her list of contacts, somberly reminding herself to erase a few of them the next time she thinks about it. After a brief moment she steps away from the stove and reaches out to her sister, tilting the screen of the scroll towards her so she can see the picture of Jaune.

At first Salem smiles, then her expression quirks. "He's Gypsy's?"

"The eyes."

"... _Ah_ yes, I see now." she smiles again, then it slowly dies, turning into something else. "Oh dear."

"What's wrong?"

"I tried to kill him." her tone is frank, but her face is fretting as she passes the device back. "Goodness, is he all right?"

"As far as I know he was none the worse for wear afterwards."

Salem nods. "I'd like to apologize to him in person, although if you should speak to him before that, tell him I'm sorry."

Glynda agrees as she likely would have the opportunity much sooner that Salem would.

"All of those kids deserve an apology...well, a lot more than that to be fair, but that's all I have. Especially Ruby," Salem quiets for a moment, thinking, "Summer would have been so proud."

"You can give them more by sharing with me everything Jarreth told you. They might not even have to face what comes out of this, and whether or not they do rests solely with _you_."

"You're right." she doesn't hesitate, nodding slowly. "You're right. But it's hard, you know? He made me promise to keep it secret. Breaking my word...even though he's gone,"

"I know, but Jarreth had a streak of idiocy as long as my arm," Glynda almost bites back, feeling a swell of bitterness in her chest, "not all of his choices should be respected. Though I'm sure you disagree,"

"To a point, yes, but just because I loved him doesn't mean I did so blindly. I know he wasn't perfect, and neither were some of his decisions." Salem takes a moment to think, just long enough as it takes Glynda to pass her a cup after having taken the whistling kettle from the stove. "There were times when I thought he trusted you more than _me,_ and the fact that he didn't tell you _any_ of this infuriates me on some level."

Glynda laughs as she sits across from her sister. "Nice to know we're on the same page."

Salem smiles too and lifts her cup. "Here's to that stupid man, may the gods rest his soul."

Glynda agrees and taps her mug to Salem's, both Witches taking a small sip. "So," she sighs, "what's in his office vault?" and she expects to wait, knowing it would take a moment for her sister to get up the guts to break a promise, so she takes another sip from her mug.

"His mother's mirror."

And then proceeds to choke on it. Her eyes are wide and starting to water as she coughs hard behind her fist. She'll try to speak a number of times, only to fumble and cough again. When it seems to finally pass she just gapes at her sister until the words come back. " _Zerline's_ mirror?"

Salem nods. "He said his mother hid it, didn't even tell _him_ where, but he eventually tracked it down to a chasm of waterfalls in Menagerie where there's a huge collection of black Dust. That's how he knew where to find the Manticore, the mirror was in its den."

"Then what was it still doing there for us to hunt?"

"This was a _long time_ before us, before _Raven_ , so he had no means of banishing it then. He just subdued it and reclaimed the mirror to bring back to Vale. According to him, Beacon was built around it."

Glynda continues to stare for a moment, blinking and shaking her head as she slumps against the back of her chair. She's having another moment of staggering clarity, where things once incomplete start falling together to become whole.

"I've been thinking about it," Salem continues, suddenly sounding less like she's telling a story and more like she's remembering, "I think that's why it had me send Cinder to Beacon in the first place. It wasn't about Jarreth...well, not entirely, but it was about the mirror."

"Why? What could you have possibly done with it from the other side?"

"It could have used it to escape. For all intents and purposes, it's not just Zerline's focus, but Barren's as well."

"That's impossible, Grimm can't-"

"Barren isn't like other Grimm, Glynda, it simply isn't, just as it's first born aren't like other Grimm. It's something _more_ , something that none of the others are. Yes, it's still soulless and hellbent on destroying us, but it's _magical_ . It didn't crawl out of the pitch darkness like the rest, Zerline made it with her own hands. _It's a part of her_."

At first Glynda says nothing, still trying to process it. She takes off her glasses so she can rub her eyes. "Would it be stupid of me to ask how you're so sure of this?"

"A bit." Salem says flatly. "That thing occupied my body for nigh on twenty years, we shared thoughts and memories whether we chose to or not and constantly pulled at each other trying to separate. When it settled in deep enough we sort of...melded together. Telling us apart in my mind became impossible, and it twisted everything together until I couldn't discern its desires from my own. It found out that a part of me wanted revenge on Jarreth for convincing us to...and everything began from there."

"You mean everything with Cinder Fall?"

Salem nods, taking a mouthful of tea. "I don't know what it saw in her, but it had to have been something incredible. Earning her trust and allegiance was paramount to whatever Barren had planned."

"And it didn't allow you to see that?"

"No. Don't ask me why." and the seemingly helpless confusion on Salem's face seems painfully real. "All I know is that its ultimate goal was to return to Remnant."

Glynda nods. "Thankfully we've managed to postpone that, and so long as Jarreth's cane remains where it is, we have very little to worry about."

"There's still Cinder."

"I haven't forgotten." as if she _could_. "And considering she hasn't tried to knock this house down leads me to believe that she doesn't know it's here -which is good for a number of reasons." Glynda finishes her coffee and pushes her mug aside, folding her hands atop the counter as she leans forward. "I have another question, though it might be a little off topic."

"Of course."

"What does Pyrrha Nikos have to do with all this?"

Salem's features flicker with surprise, a brief instant where she's caught off guard as her train of thought changes rails. "It was random...more like convenience, really. There was nothing particular about her that Barren was interested in, but she presented an opportunity for Barren to make something like Jabberwocky. However, as you might have noticed, the poor girl didn't turn into a twenty foot long lion monster."

"Indeed. Do you know how it was done?"

Salem nods. "We all come from Dust, you know that...that's the only explanation I could glean from it. Somehow it has magic powerful enough to...pull it all back together. And with my help it was able to put Manticore inside of her, make her like I was. Barren wanted children that could hide in plain sight among humans. Or, at least, hide more easily."

"I shudder to think."

The younger Witch swallows, taking a quick, stabilizing breath to go with a curt nod. "How is she doing? You said yesterday that you received some news,"

"According to Jaune the Manticore is still inside of her. She's lost use of her aura, her Semblance, and appears to have no emotional capacity to speak of."

"Gods above." the guilt is swelling up, higher and faster than it ever has, and it's almost too much. Salem slowly shakes her head, her face scrunching. "We've...what have we done, Glynda? Really? All that talking we did to convince ourselves we were doing the right thing...but we've hurt _so many people_ . And for _what_?"

The older Witch forces herself to look at her sister, to accept and shoulder the weight of her expression that begs for answers. She then shifts in her seat, uncomfortable in more ways than one, and shrugs. "We took a chance. We gambled for a better world, a world without Grimm, we just never fully realized -or accepted, as the case may be- just how much we were actually risking. Like we all forgot that the house always wins."

"What sort of saying is that?"

"I heard it from Qrow, he's the authority on gambling."

"Ah." Salem nods once, exaggerated. "He's certainly changed, hasn't he? Never pegged him for an alcoholic."

"No one pegged him for a lot of things." Glynda shrugs, finally putting her glasses back on. "James all but hates him now, I think."

"James," Salem smiles around the words, having always had a fondness for him. "Is Major Ironwood still as...blunt as I remember?"

"It's general now, and yes, if not more so."

" _General_ , my goodness. Does he still have a crush on you?"

Glynda buzzes her lips and stands up, taking her mug to the sink. "I wouldn't call it a crush, but it would seem so. I still think it's because I remind him so much of Willow."

"Understandable, I guess, but we're getting away from ourselves." Salem agrees with a hum and a lilt of her head. "Were we wrong to think we could do it? That we could stop the Grimm completely?"

She doesn't need time to consider the question, taking only a second before responding with "Maybe. Judging by the collateral of our failure, the answer is certainly yes."

"But we can still make _some_ things right again, can't we?"

"I hope so. We're going to try our damnedest in-," she suddenly stops, her gaze cutting away and her back snapping straight in reaction to a loud, solid _thump_ that obviously came from outside the house. She moves to stand up, Salem attempting to do the same until her sister gestures with one hand and tells her to stay put.

Once Glynda is in the hallway she breaks into a steady jog that gradually quickens, the former professor all but sprinting as she reaches the front door and hurries outside. She scurries down the stone steps onto the grass, taking several long strides forward as her head swivels to look around. After several tense seconds of seeing nothing out of place, even after she moves to look around either side of the house, her ears pick up on footsteps. She doesn't realize where they're coming from at first, but then she chances to look up, spotting the Bison Faunus atop the roof.

"What happened?" Glynda calls up.

Billy doesn't address her immediately, appearing to scan the area with obvious purpose for another moment before jumping down with a careful pulse of aura to ease the impact. "How sturdy would you say your home is?"

She blinks, partly for the sun in her eyes and partly with confusion. "Quite. Why?"

"Is it common for your stone totems to fall?"

"Pardon? Oh, you mean the gargoyles? No, it isn't. As far as I know it's never happened."

"Well it has now, and it nearly crushed my skull."

"You sound terribly calm for having almost died."

"Because that isn't the worst of it." they continue. "I don't think it just fell, I believe it was moved."

"What makes you say that?"

"I found tracks around the house, and as far as I know they aren't mine and they aren't yours, though they're similar. Whoever it is wears shoes much like yours, but they're smaller and not as heavy. My guess is a likely a woman half your size; more specifically, one of Cinder's Guardians."

"Well, we were only here a couple weeks back, could it have been one of the girls?"

"No," they shake their head, "they're too fresh. There's been snow or rain more recently than that and it would have washed them out by now."

Glynda can feel tension creeping through her ribcage, a heated tightness that makes her take a breath. "Did you find anything else?"

"Muddy tracks on the roof, they match the ones on the ground almost perfectly. As far as I can tell, at least."

"I believe you." the Witch nods. "Gods, this is a problem."

"Indeed. Although at least we know you're not just paranoid."

"I would have preferred _that_." Glynda huffs.

The two share an empty chuckle, covering up their resignation to the facts of the matter. "Do you still feel that unease, though?"

"Not now. Whoever it was is long gone, and if it was Cinder's Guardian, they're likely headed off to tell her whatever it is they found."

Billy nods. "I'll stay...help however I can."

"That would be appreciated."

"Should we tell the others?"

"I'll tell them, but I think the last thing we need is the girls out here. I can always find another place to hide things, but I don't think I have it in me to hunt down Maidens again."

"Fair enough. And who knows, maybe Qrow will find Cinder first."

While Glynda Goodwitch has never been one to bet on _maybe_ , yet at this point she just might try, but not until she's stacked the deck.

 

_(II)_

Tag tells herself today will be different, that it'll be better than yesterday and the day before. She told herself she would get up at a decent hour along with everyone else and eat with them, try and be a person again instead of the transparent feeling shade that just moved from room to room to work or sleep. The Spring Maiden all but swore to herself that she would get over this... _slump_ , and in the beginning she seems to keep to that. She gets out of bed with the others, cleans herself up and even bothers to run a comb through her hair. She easily and happily returns greetings from anyone who offers, smiling for the first time in what feels like days -though she only partly means it, thinking _fake it 'til you make it_. She heard the phrase somewhere and thought it was apt.

Sitting down at the breakfast table feels natural and she eases into the conversations that bounce from seat to seat as platters of food are laid out in front of them. Tag is surprised to see Rhea appearing so relaxed, the spiteful hurt from yesterday looking to have disappeared. Mind you she doesn't try to talk to Tag, but the Faunus accepts it seeing as she hadn't expected her to in the first place. Just like she didn't expect for Haeda's shadow to fall on her as she sits in the next chair, a big smile on her freckled face as she signs _"Nice to see you join in for a change."_ Somehow that alone cheers her up, doubly so when it seems like most everyone else shares the sentiment. It's nice to feel wanted.

Jaune is on her other side, swallowing his first couple bites before trying for Tag's attention. "You got a message on your scroll this morning."

"Oh? I didn't hear it go off."

"I know." he smiles. "It's from Glynda, but you were sleeping so hard I didn't want to wake you."

"Hopefully she won't be too offended to wait until I've eaten." though a part of her is itching to hear what she might want.

"Even if she is, it's not like there's much she can do from a whole kingdom away." Nora says, one cheek bulging with half chewed food.

"Still, it could be important."

"Taking care of yourself is just as important, if not more so." Ren adds.

Tag smiles to herself, humbled. "Fair enough." she nods. "Where's Pyrrha?"

"I believe she's in her room." Thana answered. "She had already eaten when I came out to start cooking."

"Did she seem all right?"

"Only as much as she can, I suppose." the elder huntress sighs. "I asked but...well, I'm sure you can imagine that I didn't get much of an answer."

"I'm going to keep trying." she assures her, almost perfectly mimicking her words from yesterday in tone and cadence.

"I know you will, and thank you."

"Yes. Thank you." it almost sounds forced, but Rhea says it all the same, though she doesn't look up from her plate. Tag accepts it quietly.

When she's cleared her plate the Spring Maiden excuses herself, meaning to go about her work for the day. She thinks to forgo her scroll a little longer, figuring that if she's to speak with Goodwitch anyway, it might serve to have something to say on her end first.

Tag would indeed find Pyrrha in her room, accompanied by a lone male peacock perched on the corner of her desk as she sits at it and works one of her puzzle books. The bird looks at Tag for a few seconds, making a nasal sort of purr before looking away; Pyrrha must have seen it moving as she turns her head. "Yes?"

"Good morning. How are you?"

"Fine. Do you need something?" and her tone isn't one of actual interest, just a polite reflex.

"Just wondering if you feel up to another session."

"If you're able."

"I'm okay." she smiles and nods. "May I come in?" and she steps through the door when Pyrrha makes a gesture with her hand.

Pyrrha simply turns her chair around to face her bed as Tag crosses to floor to sit in front of her, legs crossing and her tail curling to rest in her lap until she moves it out of the way.

"Anything in particular that I should take a look at?"

"No."

"All right. Give me your hands." Pyrrha complies and Tag takes them in a gentle but secure grip. "Brace yourself."

The magical connection forms with a sensation similar to being stuck with a needle; at first it's pressure that steadily spikes, then an instant of forgettable pain, and after that a gradually easing burn that settles in Pyrrha's veins. But the warmth is strangely welcome, she can feel her body drawing it in and embracing it, while on the Maiden's end it's like someone's tugging on her nerves like a partly interested cat with a stretch of string. It's beckoning, asking for just a little more. Tag knows it's the creature, the Old One needing to sate its hunger and instinct to survive at any cost. She senses the dull, dark pulsation of the Grimm's consciousness and focuses on it. The closer her magic comes to cornering it, the more the Maiden senses that monster's fear. Like it knows it's in danger.

Tag feels its fear _and_ its fury; she can almost hear it snarling in warning and can definitely feel it bristling at her too close touch. It clings to Pyrrha, standing its ground as best it can in its reduced state, still jealously guarding what it needs to live from behind a barrier of thready shadows. In her mind's eye, through the holes in its influence Tag can see pinpricks of golden light -Pyrrha's life force.

_I think it's time you found a new home._

A snarl echoes through the aether. Clearly it doesn't like that sound of that.

"I'm going to try and grab it, is that all right?" the question comes unevenly, like she's sleep talking.

"Do it."

Carefully, _so carefully_ , Tag lets her magic swell and reinforce itself as she pushes a little deeper, bright green energy reaching out in glowing fingers towards the mass. Another vicious hiss grates her brain like steel wool, making the Maiden physically flinch to a stop. She quickly recovers and starts again. The hissing starts again too, low and constant, and then it surges into a trio of punctuated snarls. Tag can almost see massive paws with shimmering claws sweeping at her, trying to ward her off. She just keeps pushing, gaining inch by inch. Then there's a piercing roar and she has to stop again as pain lances her skull.

The connection breaks with the screech of nails on a chalkboard, Pyrrha blinking out of the dream state she was under. Tag is hunched in front of her, hands covering her face as her body pulses with deep breaths.

"Nature's grace," the Faunus pants, "gods, that hurt."

"It doesn't like you."

Tag looks up, blood smeared on her lips and chin from where it spills out of her nose. "That so?" she chuckles."Well I'm not too fond of it either, to be honest." she sniffs and wipes her face, composing herself. "Can I keep trying?"

Pyrrha just nods and relaxes back to the way she was just seconds ago. Tag takes her hands and she feels the magic seep into her again.

It doesn't take as long this time, Tag's able to get uncomfortably close with little effort but with some hesitation as the Old One continues to posture and resist. It roars again, but she refuses to yield. She stands fast, bolstering her magic like one shores up a wall. When the noise softens to an echo she starts pushing again. Her mind's eye has a clear picture of the darkness and how it's reacting, the pinpricks of golden light starting to narrow and disappear. The Grimm is frightened again.

"I'll go slowly. It...might be painful." more sleep talking, but she doesn't receive an answer, only the mental sensation she recognizes as consent. Bracing herself, she reaches for the darkness.

Spring and the void collide in a mess of verdant dark matter and gold stardust. They crash together in the aether like oil and water, both giving and taking for a time, breaking even. Then the darkness shudders, recoiling from the light, thinning and letting more of the gilded light shine through. The magic chases after the Grimm, pressuring, and at the same time tries to make contact with the still rich life force it conceals. Just a little further, another inch and the two forces will touch.

There's another, shocking roar, an ice cold and ripping pulse of darkness, and then everything goes black.

 

 

Author's Note:  This, more or less, begins the endgame. All the elements are in place, a majority of the information the audience needs is out in the open, and the kids are just about ready to roll hard and fast. Mind you, there's still a great chunk of work left for me, but just brace yourselves for the plot train. Next chapter we find out what the hell just happened, and Glynda starts hedging her bets. (not sure I used that right)

 


	52. Chapter Fifty-One

Everyone in the house felt it as a weird, walking-over-their-grave sort of sensation or a wild shiver up their back. Jaune felt a wave of nausea afterward, strong enough to make him double over and waver on his feet. Thana blacked out in front of her shrine, an armful of offerings scattering across the floor when she crumples and slumps flat on her back. Haeda almost obliterates her desk and trips over the bed trying to reach her. Rhea was out in the stables, tending the horses when all of them became suddenly spooked. Immediately she dropped everything and ran back to the house, knowing in her heart of hearts that something was wrong. Ren and Nora were out on the veranda and saw her sprinting across the yard, following her inside without question.

Once inside Rhea can hear the peacock wailing in Pyrrha's room and immediately makes her way to it, Jaune waiting for her to pass before falling in between her and Ren.

Jaune sees Pyrrha on the floor but can't get to her before Rhea, and he wasn't about to fight her over it, especially when she all but throws the now empty chair between her and her daughter towards the door. Instead he diverts his attention to Tag, the Spring Maiden at the head of the bed with her upper body slumped atop the nightstand. He's calling her name just as carefully as he takes her by the shoulders to lift her up, a shock of fear bolting through him when her head just hangs, limp-necked and unresponsive. But another worried shake makes her body tense in his grip, and when she's upright again her head tips back, showing Jaune the blood from her nose.

"What happened?"

"It th-threw me," she forces out. Everything is a conscious effort because the world is still spinning and her head is throbbing _terribly_.

Jaune looks up for a moment, eyes somehow drawn to the wall above the bed where he spots a small crimson smudge, and the wood of the head board looks to have an almost invisible split along the top. Carefully he reaches back and touches her head, finding a patch of damp hair and no surprise when he pulls back to find the pads of his fingers reddened with blood.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asks gently, not expecting her to laugh before telling him the appropriate number.

"Pyrrha? Pyrrha, answer me!"

Tag watches Jaune cut away, looking towards the foot of the bed where he can see Rhea from the shoulders up, and she pats his shoulder. "Go on, I'm all right." He nods to her and moves away, Ren quickly moving into his now vacant space.

Jaune crawls across the foot of the bed and down onto the floor. "What is it?"

"She's not responding to me," she half sobs. " _Pyrrha_ ,"

"Wait, don't shout," he looks a little closer. Pyrrha's body is rigid and trembling with the tension, and her hands are locked in a cruel clutching gesture at the middle of her chest. Her breathing is quick and much too shallow, the tendons in her neck bulge and force her head back. Blood is gushing out of her nose -crimson and black- and her eyelids flutter, revealing only the whites of her eyes. "I think she's having a seizure. We need to roll her over. Someone pass me a pillow,"

Ren is quick to snatch one from the head of the bed and toss it into Jaune's waiting hand. He lifts her head and pushes the pillow underneath, then gently pulls Pyrrha onto her side. He watches her a moment, attempting to swallow the awful helplessness he feels, succeeding when he lifts his head and sees the same thing in equal measure on Rhea's face. The older woman already has tears rolling down her cheeks.

"We can't leave her like this,"

"I know, we won't, but it could pass on its own. If it lasts a couple minutes more we'll call for help."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Please don't shout." he repeats. "But my sister had a bad fall when she was little and has seizures sometimes. We've done everything we're supposed to, now we just need to see what it does."

"But-,"

"This is what mom taught all of us to do, so if you can't trust me then maybe you could at least trust _her_."

Rhea's gaping mouth snaps shut, her fear and panic turning into something indignant. She looks down at Pyrrha and then back up to him, her eye thinning like she's fighting not to say something else. "...Very well." her tone is biting, reluctant. "Could I get an explanation at least?"

"Was my fault." Tag slurs. "I didn't know it would do that,"

" _It_?"

"The Grimm. I tried to...move it," her face scrunches up tight, her face falling in her open hands with Ren stabilizing her through the wave of pain in her head. When it passes she's panting. "Clearly it would not be moved."

"So what about Pyrrha?" Nora squeaks from the doorway. She had been holding her breath this entire time, too scared to move.

"She'll be all right, I think." Tag straightens, wiping beneath her nose with her hand and sniffling. "This was just a warning. If I keep at it this will happen again, and there's no way I can know how bad it will be. It won't kill her because it wants to survive, but it could easily hurt her bad enough to...well..."

Rhea gets a flash of Theron at his worst, the week before he died, and feels her heart sink. The thought of Pyrrha ending up like that, of watching her waste away in a bed, guts her. She can't be angry or frustrated at the situation, she can only be terrified. "I...this is my fault, I pushed you."

"I would have had to try it eventually, and I probably would have gotten the same reaction."

"Hey," Jaune speaks up, "it's easing off."

Nora manages to force herself to move, coming just shy of the bed so she can see her friend there on the floor, watching as everyone else does as Pyrrha appears to finally relax. Her hands drop to the floor, her breathing steadily slows and deepens, and her eyelids close completely, giving her the appearance of only sleeping if it weren't for the smeared blood on her face.

"Now what?" Nora croaks, trying not to cry.

"It could be a while before she comes around; we'll wait an hour and call someone if nothing changes. How close is the nearest hospital?"

"Ten minutes on horseback, five if everyone gets the hell out of the way." Rhea says flatly.

Jaune thinks to laugh, maybe attempt to break some of the lead tension in the air, but decides against it on the risk of only upsetting Rhea more. Instead he just gives a quiet shrug, letting himself feel a little relief. "We should clean her up."

" _Rhea_! Rhea where are you?"

Without a second thought the older huntress turns on her heels and hurries out of the room. She'll meet with her partners in the living room, Haeda helping Thana maneuver around the couch as the human wobbles uneasily. There's blood running down her face too. Rhea takes a moment to look Thana over, offer the comfort of holding her hands. "You felt that too?"

"Just a little faint is all," Thana shakes her head, dismissive, "but that's not what we should be worried about."

"It hit Pyrrha too. She had a seizure."

Thana pauses, startled worry pulling her features. "It came from her, didn't it."

"How did you know?"

"Because I've felt something like that before. You remember when Gypsy and the others came? Remember what they were after?"

"How could I forget?" Considering it crosses her mind every time she looks in a mirror?

"It felt just like that when it called out for others."

The color leaves Rhea's face as her mind fully processes what she said.

 

Manticore was weak, but in the moment it had been too desperate to spare its power. It had warned the Maiden to stay back, demanded in no uncertain terms that she keep that damnable light _away_ from it, but she just kept pushing. It had no other choice, it had to call for help if it was going to survive. It pushed back with what little strength it had stored up, forcing the Maiden out of its host and releasing a black wave of influence as far as it would go. It was unaware of how it rippled through the house, crippling anyone sensitive enough to the shadowy flux as it went, or how it continued to roll through the district towards the inland sea. Manticore hadn't sensed it, but one of its siblings was sleeping along the rocky sea floor, its coils reaching all around the Rim with silt and seaweed covering its glossy black skin.

The Old One felt the distressing cry from its kin and stirred for the first time in nearly twenty years. In the murky darkness below the surface, below the ferries and fishing boats, two bright bulbs of amber light flicker to life. Then a third beacon begins to shine, seeming to hang in the thready darkness just above what one would think is its head. There's a dull rumble like the groan of tired steel, the vibrations strong enough to travel along the entirety of its prodigious length and shake several years worth of mud and debris from its body. Another rumble and its head lifts, the light of its eyes and that strange third orb waxing brightly, then it begins to draw itself upward and reels in its serpentine frame with a flex of musculature and the ripple of spiny crimson fins along its back and sides.

The inland sea begins to churn as the Progenitor moves beneath the surface, some of the smaller boats pitching off course and others tipping over. Those in the larger ships are wary of something awful about to happen and have begun radioing others, all of them wondering if someone has seen anything. It's quiet on all fronts when the thing lifts its head out of the water, the first visible part being the angler fish lure that springs up between its eyes, and though it rises slowly, the water rushes away from the bony shell of its face in churning white torrents. Its awesome, fixed jaws lift above the waves and water comes rushing out from beneath its rubbery, wriggling tongue. Undeterred the Grimm slithers for the southwestern shore, the direction it felt the call had come from.

Sirens have begun to wail from one district to the next, sirens put in place specifically in response to the Progenitor's first appearance, alerting the entire Rim and rallying all the hunters -and likely rousing the Atlesian outpost to the north as well. Yet, even with an alarm this swift to rise, the Grimm would reach the beach long before anyone could move against it. It lifts further out of the water, easily able to stay out of the shallows and just crane its head to reach solid ground. No longer muffled by tons of water, the once steely groan becomes a thick, guttural and watery belch of sorts. Heavy, roiling ichor gathers at the back of its throat and rises to spill around its jagged teeth. It falls in ropes to the water and the sand, spreading like tar and turning it black, bubbling and hissing with corrosion. Withing seconds, half formed things start writhing and crawling out of the slime, others burst free of it to take to the air in dripping masses until their gestation completes to form smaller Nevermores and Lancers. Below them are coalescing Beowolves and Ursa and Creeps, and in the water are countless unseen things with fins and hideous teeth that can't come onto land -instead going for anything foolish enough to stray too close to the water or not pull in their boats fast enough.

The lesser Grimm siege the district, tearing through the streets with uncharacteristic purpose. They seem to ignore the helpless civilians that scatter and run, heading only inland.

 

Rhea can see the Old One from the front lawn of the house, her jaw clenching at the sight of it that stirs memories and dread. It'll be worse this time, she thinks, worse because it's too sudden and they don't have two Witches to support them and the _children_ \- _nothing_ is in their favor and she knows it, hates it. With a firm scowl she sprints back inside, slamming the door shut and bolting it behind her. It wouldn't be much, but it would buy them a few seconds and that would have to be enough.

Rhea strides into the shared bedroom, turning a sharp corner once inside to open a wooden wardrobe. She unwinds her sari and folds it to tuck inside, and when her hands come back she's hefting a round, bronze shield that's been polished to a mirror finish onto her arm. Her sword, the inspiration behind Milo, is then tucked into the tight space between the shield and her forearm, freeing up her other hand.

"Thana," she calls out, not expecting an answer as she shuts the wardrobe, "you and Haeda best arm yourselves."

Her partners come in seconds later, the human all but dragging the Faunus behind her. They see their partner already prepped for combat and move to do the same.

"No time for armor." Rhea adds. "They'll be on us in a few minutes most likely. Thana,"

"Yes?" The Vacuoan woman has her swords on her back and is tying a knot in one side of her dress to make moving easier.

"I want you to take the kids into the hills. Between the lot of you I'm sure you can either slip away or stand your ground until you can get word to Holiday to get you out."

"I'm not leaving you alone here."

"I won't be alone. Haeda will be with me. I built this house, damn it, and I'm not losing it to a bunch of _Grimm._ And _you_ need to get Pyrrha as far from here as you can. Understand?" she acknowledges the worry on Thana's face, her own expression softening a little. "Don't worry, we'll find each other once it's over, I promise."

Thana just nods and then turns to Haeda to relay the message. The Faunus reciprocates as she straps an enormous steel gauntlet with a bright red chunk of Dust fitted into a dog's jaws to her off hand and grips an incredible maul in the other, the weapon topped with three more snarling canine heads made of solid, unpolished steel. Together the three of them head for Pyrrha's room.

Haeda and Rhea wait in the living room as Thana gathers them all together, insisting they only have time to fetch their weapons. Nora and Ren run off to retrieve them.

"We really shouldn't move Pyrrha yet." Jaune cautions, still kneeling on the floor where Pyrrha lies unconscious.

"We don't have a choice." Thana shakes her head, looking to deflate with frustration at not having a better answer. "Someone will have to carry her."

"I can do it." Jaune nods. "If worse comes to worse, I can at least protect her until Daisy can find us."

"And I'll keep close to you." Tag adds, then looks to Thana. "That leaves you with Nora and Ren to back you up."

"I can work with that. Now let's hurry." The elder huntress lingers in the doorway, her head swiveling back and forth as she keeps a visual on her partners. It feels like they just can't get moving fast enough, the two or three minutes it takes to get moving again tugging on her anxiety like thirty. Finally, with Pyrrha on Jaune's back and her arms and legs around him, they file out of the room. Tag has her scroll and is already trying to reach Daisy.

Haeda is at the door to the veranda, standing just outside and on the lookout for Grimm as she gestures with her free hand for them to come on through. Rhea stands in the middle of the living room, resolute and stock still, bolstering her aura as she hears the punctuated crashing against the closed windows and front door. They're trying to get in. Thana calls after her and she doesn't react.

Wooden shutters blast apart, slivers of shrapnel scattering across the floor as one large Beowulf leaps through the window, quickly followed by two more. The three of them jump the dining table, leaving deep, clawing gouges, and then do the same to the sofa as they tear across the room. With snapping jaws and gripping claws they leap for her, all three at once.

Jaune is the last in line, Thana trying to hurry him along, yet he can't help but pause and look in reaction to the presence of Grimm. He hears them, sees them and it makes his gut twist for all of a second, then everything is washed out by a bright flash of emerald light. He blinks the stars from his eyes when it dissipates, his vision clearing just in time to see all three Beowolves flying through the air -the Grimm now strangely gray. Rhea had crouched to let them pass and crash into the wall, shattering against it as they are now made of stone. As much as he wants an explanation, there simply isn't time. Thana all but shoves him through the door and follows him.

There are more Grimm outside, Ursa and Creeps ripping through the barrier of hedges that separate the front and back of the property. Haeda's ready; a flick of her wrist sets off a mechanism in the massive gauntlet on her arm, making it expand vertically in a series steel bands that eventually form a tower style shield with the chunk of Dust situated at the center. She lifts it with uncanny ease, tucking the shield close as she takes long, powerful strides towards the creatures. A Creep comes in range first and she smacks it with a smooth upward swing of her mace, the little Grimm spiraling through the air with a shrill screech before it detonates in an Ursa's face. The Faunus keeps her arm moving, taking advantage of the momentum to crush another Grimm's jaw and then kick it to the side. Following through she makes a half turn, stopping herself and bracing with her aura as she plants the shield in front of her, taking the the impact and weight of a host of Grimm crashing against it. For a moment she holds fast, claws starting to hook around the shield to try and pull it down, but then she retaliates. Bodies scatter away from a fiery explosion, the Dust crystal flashing wildly.

Many of the Grimm will come surging back once the smoke clears, only to have Haeda lift her shield and send her Semblance familiar to greet them -a three-headed dog made of molten stone and fire that's the size of a truck rips into the first creature it can reach, one head going for the throat while the others trap the Ursa's powerful arms. Together they tear it to the ground.

It goes against everything Thana feels to leave her partners even though she knows she _has to_. She consciously forces herself to push the others on, letting Ren and Nora take the lead while she keeps pace somewhere between the front and back of the line they've fallen into. They head south into the hills, hoping to reach the trees where Specialist Holiday would be expected to meet them. Glancing back she can make out the clear shape of the Old One by the shore, can see the brood surging inland from the beach and also make out the dark shapes of airborne Grimm. Her attention zeros in on the nimble wing movements of a Daredevil and she groans; they were making great gains, but there's no way they could outrun one of those.

Jaune does his best to pump his legs as hard as he can while Thana urges them on, adjusting his arms so he has a more secure grip on Pyrrha. He can just see the trees ahead and feels that if he can just make it that far, the rest will fall in to place. He just has to give everything he's got for a few more minutes, just has to ignore the way his shoulders have started burning and his thighs ache. The only worry he has at the moment is about the absence of it; he's not afraid of failing or falling, or of the Grimm catching up to him. He's confident, almost calm, and he knows he can handle this. Everything is as simple as following through, and for the first time he actually believes it.

They disappear into the timbers just as the Daredevil's shadow falls over them, the Grimm stopping the makings of a dive with an indignant shriek. It begins to circle, overhead, knowing they have to reappear eventually. Below, in the spotty shadows, the lot of them stop to catch their breath.

"Don't relax too much, there's more coming." Thana cautions as she braces herself against one of the trees, looking back the way they had come for any sign of enclosing Grimm. She draws her swords from their sheathes on her back, the blades shaped like some weird hybrid between a sword and scythe. Ren and Nora fall in around her, to the left and the right, ready. Nora's trigger finger is awful itchy, in fact her whole frame seems to jump like sparks as she waits to tear into something. She's been holding down far too much for far too long to keep completely still.

Jaune and Tag duck further in by only a few yards, not too far that they can't see the others, but far enough that they have a few seconds between them and anything that comes for them. Sweat is rolling down the young man's reddened face and his lungs ache from the cool air, but he fights and wins to stay upright.

"Let's set her down." Tag calls him over with a beckoning hand, showing him a recess in a tree trunk just big enough to hide in. He doesn't run but moves quickly to join her, carefully dropping to one knee before loosening his hold. Tag's ready to take Pyrrha's weight, hands at the young woman's back, but she doesn't move. Even after he's let go completely, she remains atop his back.

Pyrrha's hands suddenly clench in the thick fabric of his hoodie, knuckles white and the tendons popping up in sharp relief. Her grip is tight enough to hurt, her claw-like nails having raked the skin beneath the cloth layers, and the way her thighs cinch around his waist isn't so gentle anymore either. He can feel her shaking against him, her chest fluttering with quick breaths.

"Is it another seizure?" he's twisting his neck to try and look, but can't see anything other than the bright redness of her hair. Her face is pressed into his shoulder with all the tenacity of an ostrich shoving its head in the sand.

"I...I don't," Tag's eyes dart between her and him, uncertain. "Pyrrha? Pyrrha, can you hear me?"

Surprisingly, she nods, her forehead grinding hard into his shoulder.

" _Here they come_!"

" _Shit_." the Faunus bites. "It's not a seizure but I don't know what's going on. Just stick with her, I'll do what I can to cover you." The Spring Maiden has her bullwhip in her hands, ready even as she wishes for her knife instead- the close proximity of the trees wouldn't be a problem then. And if she hadn't taken such a blow to the head earlier, she would have greater trust in her magic.

Jaune hates the helplessness that creeps over him as he watches, seeing the hulking black shapes of Grimm flicker in and out of view between the trees along with the forms of his teammates. His instincts are split evenly between helping them and literally getting Pyrrha off his back, and he certainly can't do one without first accomplishing the other. He makes a conscious effort to center his thoughts on Pyrrha, knowing the sooner he can decipher what's wrong, the sooner he can make better use of himself.

"Pyrrha, what's going on? Talk to me," he speaks softly, but not so much that he can't be heard over the commotion echoing through the timbers, and as the words form he molds his hands over hers that still make fists in his clothes. "Please, I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."

She doesn't speak and for a split second her grip tightens, even her breath stills as the shaking reaches a fever pitch with one hard shudder. It pushes some of the air out of his lungs and nudges his heart closer to his throat with worry. Then, just like that, she relaxes and lets him go. She slides off his back and to the ground with an unceremonious _thump_ , startling him into snapping around as quick as he's able to make sure she's all right. There's still some blood on her face, long since dried, and her expression is unreadable. What's out of place is the wideness of her eyes, how they have a strangely haunted look and... _tears_?

He takes her hands in his and cranes his head so their eyes might meet. "Pyrrha?"

That thousand yard stare of hers comes back after a few seconds; she looks at him, appearing indifferent as ever yet panting a little. "I'm sorry." she exhales.

He reacts the only way he knows how. "It's okay, this isn't your fault. Are you all right?"

It takes her a moment, she has to form the answer in her head first and right now it feels like the most hostile environment for words. So she just nods.

"Good." he can't hold back the sigh of relief. "Listen, Daisy's on her way to pick us up, but we've got to hold off some Grimm until she gets here."

" _Daredevil_! _Everybody down_!"

Again he's reacting more than thinking, grabbing Pyrrha by the shoulders, wrapping her up in his arms and pulling her to the ground with him. The next three seconds pass in a riot of sound and the roaring of blood through his ears. He feels the air whipping around him, cold and sharp, coupled with the racket of shattering wood. He forces himself to open his eyes and look up, seeing that the thready canopy of bare branches and evergreen boughs have disappeared, the trees broken up and toppled by the Daredevil's pass. The ground shakes for an instant as one tree crashes close by, inches away from falling right on top of them.

Jaune chances to lift his head, the rest of his body following as he props on one elbow. The broken forms of earthbound Grimm are scattered among the fallen trees, some of them already beginning to dissipate. Damn thing took out its own allies. Looking up he can see the sky becoming crowded by others, Lancers and Nevermores that are already looking to start assailing them with a volley of razor sharp pinfeathers. And he's willing to bet that Daredevil will be circling back any second.

" _Nora_!"

Jaune's on his feet in record time, his senses wholly jarred by the reality of Ren _shouting_. He jerks around to see him running in his direction, jumping from one fallen log to the next, his face strangely twisted up in fear like Jaune has never seen. Ren sprints right by, the residue of his aura tangible and hot against his own. But he can only regard it for a moment, remembering the Grimm still coming for them. Now that his hands are free he draws his sword and opens his shield. His aura flares to life, primed to summon his Semblance because he knows he'll need it.

 

Ren saw it happen, he saw the Daredevil as it ripped through the trees before banking upward after its dive, its bony, gripping claws dangling just low enough to clip Nora as it passed. She went flying, bouncing off the ground and downed timbers until she crashed to a stop somewhere amongst a nest of fractured debris. With most of the Grimm torn down in the process, Ren couldn't stop himself from being swallowed by the gut wrenching panic that surged through him and demanded he go after her. His vision is tunneled; he doesn't care about the Lancers closing in, or the Daredevil doubling back, or the pack of Beowolves coming up over the hill -all he sees is that mound of crisscrossing timbers in his path.

The same pile of debris that suddenly blasts apart just as he comes within steps of reaching it. Ren smoothly somersaults over a log that flies at him, barely stumbling when he lands on uneven footing. He can see her now, standing in the middle of a charred circle of earth, and he can feel all the small hairs across his body standing up with a shiver of static. The odor of ozone prickles in his nose, making him stop as it draws his attention to the bright flickers of turquoise light arcing around Nora's clenched fists. Then her aura hits him in a heavy surge, and his only thought is to stay back and stay low.

The Storm Witch watches the Daredevil as it reaches the top of its renewed ascent, her eyes flashing with arcs of light that snap in and out of sight. She's scraped up from head to toe, her knees and nose and forehead bloody, and her hair is full of wood slivers as it rises with the electric charge she's putting into the air around her. Magic courses through her like barbwire in her veins, but it's a sharp pain that she knows and embraces like the close companion that it is; she lets it grow and pool into her palms as the Daredevil starts its descent with its shadow centered on her. Another surge crackles through the air, pushing smaller debris away from her feet with hot pressure as her magic forms solid orbs of light in her hands. The Grimm screeches overhead, it's big glowing eyes meeting Nora's in the seconds before the young huntress slings both hands upward, hurling a maelstrom of electricity that jumps from her to the Grimm in a second. The monster doesn't stop, instead it appears to light up and shudder, its entire form swelling just before it breaks up in a cloud of smoke and feathers, and then it dissolves with a loud _CRACK_ into a shower of black slime that doesn't even make it to the ground before it evaporates.

Ren steadily lifts his head, surprised at himself when he freezes the instant Nora turns on her heels to face him. He watches her wipe a hand across her head, wincing at the little pain, and then her furious scowl turns into frustrated hurt.

"Asshole tore my skirt." she says, sounding like she's trying to justify herself. Not that she has to. Still Ren drops his gaze a little, and sure enough he can see the pretty pink fabric ripped apart and fluttering against her now half bare thigh.

Maybe that's what convinces him it's okay, enough evidence to assure him that she's still human and that it's safe for him to go to her. And he isn't really thinking as he approaches her in an unstable hurry, his eyes wide and hands reaching for her until she's in his arms and against his chest. Something instinctive and primitive in his brain hates it when she fights him.

"We don't have time for this, we need to-,"

Ren cuts her off with a kiss, because he's too scared and relieved to speak. The world seems to fall away from them, even though the others still fight tooth and nail just over their shoulders. It's too brief and too good, and for a second after they finally part they just stare at each other, looking shocked at themselves. Then Nora's cheeks turn a bright red and she grabs him by the wrist to lead him on, back into the fight only after she has reclaimed Magnhild from the debris.

 

The Progenitor lingers on the shore, spitting up it's offspring until airships from the Atlesian base to the north arrive. It only takes a single volley of cannon fire to make it recoil with a bird-like shriek and head out of the shallows. The ships will keep the pressure on it regardless, depleting almost their entire ordinance until it disappears beneath the water. Eventually it returns to the deep, undetectable even by boats that remained in the water that were equipped to search the greater fathoms below. However, the few minutes the monster had to unleash its horde was more than enough to nearly overrun the entire Minoan District, so the work was far from done. Once they were sure the massive serpent had ceased its attack, the airships land and release several companies of specialists to help route the remaining Grimm alongside the local hunters that were already neck deep in it.

Specialist Holiday had been one of the last ships cleared to leave the base, the traffic controller assuring her it was only so the strike force could take off quicker. Emergency sorties take priority, and he didn't care that she had clearance directly from General Ironwood -"With that thing in the water, the gods themselves couldn't make me delay those fighters." were his exact words. While she could understand the reasoning, she still didn't like it. She was praying there was still time when she was finally cleared to leave along with the drop ships, breaking away from the group almost immediately and crossing the inland sea as quickly as the craft's engines allowed.

Daisy had instructed Tag to leave her scroll active at the end of their short and harried conversation earlier, making them easier to find. Her co-pilot found the signal with expected ease and she followed it without delay, consciously ignoring the chaotic mess of Grimm and hunters below them. She keeps a steady course to the south, distinctly feeling her gut drop when she sees the wrecked trees and traces of Grimm -but no whole ones to speak of. However she's quick to recover once she's able to make out the shapes of people, a quick study reassuring her that everyone was accounted for. With careful quickness she sets the ship down, making sure the co-pilot's still ready for takeoff before leaving the cockpit.

Before she can set her foot on solid ground she can see them heading towards the ship, making an audible, almost cheerful _whoo_ of relief. "Everybody all right?" she calls out.

"A little battered," Thana replies, "you have a medic aboard?"

"I've got a fully stocked first-aid station, that's the best I could do on such short notice. But it should tide you over so long as no one's serious."

The elder huntress pauses beside the specialist, letting the others step aboard and unconsciously counting them as they go.

"Where's Rhea and Haeda?"

"They stayed behind to hold the house." she nods, worry knitting her brow a little. "How bad is it down there?"

"Not as bad as you'd think. That big honking thing birthing all the smaller ones took off according to what I heard over the radio, just disappeared. I think it's just a matter of snuffing out the dredges at this point."

"Good. Let's be on then. And thanks."

"My pleasure, ma'am."

 

Pyrrha feels physically _strange,_ almost like she's outside of her own body and witnessing everything second hand. Her consciousness feels foreign to her frame and if she was capable of it she would be frightened. Though the flight back to the house is brief, maybe a minute or two, it drags on like a short eternity -an eternity that she spends watching her teammates patch themselves back together and feeling a thousand miles away from them. And in spite of that imaginary distance, something in her -that foreign thing- recoils in tactile disgust at seeing Ren and Nora making eyes at each other. All of a sudden that alienated part of her is familiar; it's Manticore. She partly feels what it's feeling, and it hates that it's sharing space with two people that appear to be in love. At least, that's what she's thinking, thinking that turns into knowing when she shifts her eyes to Jaune, meeting his gentle blue gaze, and the Grimm makes a mental jerk inside her skull.

Somehow she and the Old One are more separate now but still together, just apart enough for her to know.

"You okay?"

Pyrrha blinks at Jaune and his soft question, her face devoid of any trace of everything going through her mind. She doesn't answer, knowing she should be brokenhearted by the worry in his eyes.

The airship lands near the training pitch behind the house, everyone aboard who is able feeling relieved to see it intact and to find Haeda and Rhea waiting on the veranda. The young hunters and the Maiden hurry inside, Thana and her partners almost herding them like sheep. Rhea will stop Tag and Pyrrha in the living room, sitting her daughter down so the Spring Maiden can look her over while the others hurry off the grab their belongings. It's more than clear that they can't stay and needed to leave as soon as possible.

"I'm fine." Pyrrha says softly, not really a protest, more a neutral affirmation. Although her skin crawls when Tag puts her hands on her, but she knows that's just the Grimm reacting.

"I just want to be sure." Rhea replies, hoping her worry isn't showing even though it's all but written on her face. "You scared me something awful."

"I'm sorry." it's reflexive, almost meaningless.

Tag only has to concentrate for a moment, her magic washing through the young woman easily in spite of a small hiccup. "There's nothing I wasn't aware of before." she sighs.

Rhea nods, looking away for a moment. "I suppose you all will be leaving?"

"It's too risky for us to stay." Tag shakes her head. "There's no knowing if this will happen again, maybe without provocation next time. That's too many innocent people to bet on _maybe_."

"And there's no telling how long it is before someone discovers that Pyrrha's here to begin with." Thana adds, as if they should have considered this before but didn't. "Never mind what they might think if they see her as she is now."

Rhea takes a deep breath, her brow furrowing hard enough to hurt. She knows they're both right, but she doesn't have to like it. "Thana, could you pack a few of her things? Make sure she has plenty of warm clothes?"

"Of course." Thana's quick to go about her task, taking Haeda with her and partly unaware of Tag following as well. All three of them felt the same thing, that Rhea wanted a few moments, so they would give her that.

When she's confident they're alone, Rhea kneels down in front of the chair and takes Pyrrha's hand in both of hers. For a long moment they just look at each other, faces unreadable.

Then "I'm sorry."

Rhea almost laughs, almost. Because her heart is hurting and anything more than that might break her. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You're always apologizing, even when nothing is wrong. I don't know why I'm just now noticing it, but you've done it for...heavens, I can't recall when it started. But why?"

Pyrrha doesn't have an answer, even now when in seems like she would have to most clarity, without pesky emotions like embarrassment to cloud her thoughts.

"I suppose it isn't important, then." Rhea sighs. "In any case, there's nothing for you to be apologizing for now. None of this is your fault." she kisses her daughter's knuckle. "And even if it was, I wouldn't care; you could burn the whole Rim to the ground and I'd still believe that you're the greatest blessing the gods ever gave me."

Pyrrha thinks a part of her would laugh if she could feel the ironic amusement. There was a time where she most certainly could have, and likely would have razed the Rim.

Rhea sniffles against her hand. "I don't want to lose you again."

And Pyrrha wishes she could care enough - _at all_ \- to comfort her.

 

Within the hour the lot of them are packed up and ready to leave, taking only a few lingering moments to suss out where they're headed with Daisy.

"Can that ship reach Vale?" Jaune asks.

"If you ask her nice, she'll take you anywhere you want." The specialist chances a little humor to try and break up the heaviness in the air. When no one laughs, she clears her throat. "Yeah, I can get you there."

"Then we can go to the Warren, it's the safest place I can think of. I can call my mom on the way and let her know we're coming."

Daisy nods. "I'll be sure to tell Ironwood where we're going once we get there, that way he can't tell me no. But that's a hell of a ride so we need to go if we want to keep up with the daylight crossing the pond. Take a minute to bid your farewells and then we've got to jet."

They do just that once Daisy is out of sight, delving out farewells and half familiar handshakes in turn. Haeda grabs up on Nora and just holds her -never mind that they had only known each other for about a week, the little ginger is the Faunus' favorite. Pyrrha accepts affectionate goodbyes from her mothers, reciprocating even though she knows that they know she doesn't feel it like they do.

Jaune will be the last in line to leave, lingering momentarily, patting himself down just to make sure he's got everything he needs.

"Gypsy boy,"

Why he responds to that he'll never know, but he does. His spins around head first at the sound, a little surprised to see Rhea approaching him, her expression firm with sincerity.

"I don't care what you have to do... _please_ help my daughter. I'm begging you."

Her words -and not just that, but the looks from Haeda and Thana as well- settle on him like a millstone around his neck, heavy and oppressively serious. Mentally he flinches, a knee-jerk fear of that kind of responsibility that he's been given before and failed miserably to keep. But he simply can't decline, he just can't, his heart of hearts won't let him.

"I promise. Whatever is takes."

He promises because he's not the same man he was a year ago, and he hoped that would be enough to help him keep his word.

 

 

Author's Note: Holy hell, so that was a thing, and it's not likely to slow down for long from here. The kids might get a bit of a breather or two after this, but then the flood gates are going to bust open -so to speak. I previously hinted at a Renora spinoff, which I haven't forgotten, but may have to rewrite a bit as I want it to accommodate the events of this chapter as well as the chapter it was originally going to be based on. It feels better like this seeing as they've actually kissed now. As for next chapter, Tag finally checks her scroll, Jaune phones his mom, and maybe some JNPR brand angst. Questions and comments are always welcome.

 


	53. Chapter Fifty-Two

This ship isn't as big as the one that brought them all to Mistral, it was meant for short distance transport and dropping off personnel, so there are no barracks for them to retire to so they can properly process the awful morning that's now miles behind them. Team JNPR had strapped themselves in to the four seats situated around the medic station, allowing Ren to finish patching up Nora even though she doesn't really need it. At this point the young Witch is just relishing the attention, a fact that she makes no effort to hide as she smiles at her partner every time they look at each other, and in turn making him do the same. It's the most openly emotive the young man has been...goodness, had he ever smiled this much?

Pyrrha watches from her seat across from them, unaware and uncaring that she stares like she's looking at a puzzle. She knows she should be happy for them; Pyrrha vividly remembers having watched them during their time at Beacon, seeing the hints of all the things manifesting now: the pining, the passive aggression at times, she can even recall how she often shook her head at their seemingly silly dance around each other. Now here they are, smirking and whispering at each other, comforting one another with small touches and interlacing fingers. She should feel happy, and guilty because she had put them in danger, and then frustrated that she can't do either. But, again, she simply can't.

Still, she tries to sell the illusion because she knew herself well enough that she knows that's what she's supposed to do. There's still a survival grade instinct to be the person others are expecting. "I'm sorry." she says.

Jaune lifts his head at the soft sound of her voice, looking to startle out of a light snooze. "It's oka-"

"You don't mean that." Nora cuts him off, not looking up from staring at her own feet.

" _Nora_ ," Ren hisses quietly, visibly surprised just as Jaune is.

"What? She  _doesn't_ ."

Pyrrha blinks, looking to process the response, and then nods with a sigh. "She's right."

"See? Besides, you heard it yourself, she doesn't care."

"She  _can't_ , and that's not her fault." Jaune corrects gently. "Come on, Nora, this isn't like you." and he really doesn't know what to think when she crosses her arms and just scowls, refusing to look at him.

"I know," Pyrrha continues after a tense moment, "I know I should be sorry, and that I would mean it if things were different."

"But they're not." Nora responds bitterly.

"It's not like she asked for this." Jaune intercedes again.

"She asked for this when she  _chose_ to go after Cinder." The ginger bites back, her eyes finally up and on him with a sharp edge. Something mean in her likes how her team leader's jaw hangs, enjoys the shock on his face, but another part of her is already regretting where this conversation is going and pitifully trying to convince her to stop.

"That's not fair." Jaune counters when he's got his words back.

"Since when has  _any_ of this been  _fair_ ?" and she's equally smug and disappointed when he doesn't have an answer. "If it was fair,  _Ozpin_ wouldn't have asked her to be a Maiden in the first place. If it was  _fair_ , after all the fighting we've done we would have gotten our best friend back instead of..."

Pyrrha meets Nora's gaze. "Instead of what?" Because a part of her needs to know what she really is, if not herself. She needs to know what they see. But she doesn't get an explanation; maybe that's when all of Nora's hurt swells up and overwhelms her because she just tenses inward and sinks a little lower in her seat. "I'm sorry." Pyrrha repeats.

"Stop saying that." Nora sniffles, wiping her nose on her forearm. Her eyes are starting to glisten with tears.

A heavy quiet settles in, abrasive and uncomfortable. Ren and Jaune do the same thing, looking at Nora and Pyrrha before looking at each other, although Jaune doesn't expect for his own visible helplessness to be met with expectation. He feels like those cherry blossom eyes are telling him to step up and do something, but for a moment he's afraid to because he's convinced he'll screw it up. What he'd give for another dose of that unflappable confidence he felt earlier when he was running for his life.

Jaune braces himself, exhaling audibly, the air inflating his cheeks on its way out. "Listen," and he waits until Nora eventually looks at him. "I know this is hard on you, I do because it's hard on all of us, but it isn't Pyrrha's fault. What happened at Beacon...she did what she thought was best...and it just isn't right to hold that against her. And we all know that this isn't because of Cinder, but Salem, so if you have to blame someone, blame  _her_ . Or blame  _me_ if it makes you feel better."

The raw hurt on her face morphs into something desperate. "B-but,"

"Just don't blame Pyrrha." he finishes with a sort of finality. As he said, he would gladly take whatever blame Nora would mete out, because Pyrrha had done enough. She had given so much and asked for so little, it just didn't seem right to demand she shoulder anything more. He sighs again, feeling the weight of all the things he remembers and realizes, all the things that put just as much guilt on himself as anyone. He was the one who unknowingly gave Pyrrha permission to throw herself away -never mind Ozpin or Salem or Cinder, he was the one who effectively signed off on her life.

They let the quiet settle in again for the moment, let themselves process everything.

"Just because she can't care doesn't mean we don't have to." Jaune continues. "She still needs us to care, still needs...we still need to love her as we always have, even if she says she doesn't need us to. Because we know her, and we know that if...if things were still the same, that's what she would want us to do."

Somehow, in a way she might never be able to explain, Pyrrha knows he's right. It sounds like an attitude she would express at a time like this at the very least. Because she remembers being touch starved and craving genuine affection from all three of them, yet part of her is grateful -in some strange way- that she can't mentally summon up the actual feelings.

Nora's quiet again and she won't look at any of them, then her face scrunches up. "I'm sorry." she whimpers tightly. "I'm just...I'm angry and this  _sucks_ and I...I-,"

"We know." Ren touches her forearm with the back of his hand, trying to be comforting though he can feel her magic bristling sharply against him. "It's okay. Just try talking to us before you start pointing fingers."

"Talking is stupid."

"Fair enough." Jaune chuckles softly as he nods his head, and already he can feel her calming a little. Just a little.

"But," why Pyrrha hesitates she doesn't know, maybe she's waiting for everyone to acknowledge her first. "I...I felt something earlier. I believe." Then all eyes are on her in an instant and she meets them each in turn.

"Was it after you came to? When you,"  _When you held on to me like you were terrified._ And in Jaune's mind, the idea of fear and Pyrrha Nikos in one thought just didn't fit together at all.

"Yes. But it was only for a moment...at least I think it was."

"You had a seizure, it's no surprise that you might have been confused." Ren sounds like he's reading from a script, but she knows he's serious. "But you're certain there was...something?"

She nods.

"You were crying." Jaune adds.

Pyrrha looks at him, eyes thinning as she tries to retrieve the memory in tighter focus. "...I was. Yes. I was afraid."

"Well, to be fair, there were Grimm everywhere and you were unarmed."

"But it wasn't the Grimm I was worried about." Pyrrha shakes her head. She had no reason to be afraid of creatures that are still too much like herself. "I was...I think I was having flashbacks. Maybe."

The other three exchange anxious glances and none of them seeming willing to press for details. They know Pyrrha would likely tell them anything they asked in vivid detail, and they didn't have the strength to shoulder that right now. Not after the morning they had.

"But this means there's a chance right?" Nora shifts in her seat, her expression tentatively hopeful. "She could get better? What if we found a way to get the Grimm out, maybe Tag could still do it and she'd be normal again,"

"No." Jaune stops her. "That's too risky. Tag said if we try again it might be worse."

"So you just want her to stay this way?"

"If it were up to me, yes. If it were only my choice to make, I would much rather learn to love her  _this way_ than possibly get her killed."

Nora pales, recoiling with a pained sort of realization that's as plain and visible as her freckles.

"I don't mean to be so harsh with you, Nora, but that's the truth of the matter."

"Alright, so Tag can't do it," Ren adds after a moment, "but what about Salem? I mean, she wove the magic that bound Pyrrha with the Old One in the first place, couldn't she undo it?"

"I...I don't know. I'll have to ask Glynda, then we can look into it, but we've got a long while before we can do anything about it. We should probably try to rest up while we have the time."

Pyrrha watches them settle into their seats like one would settle into bed for a nap. Nora and Ren look at each other, the young Witch's eyes softly pleading until her partner takes her hand with his. She can see her whole form desaturate a little and a visible serenity wash over her and knows she should feel comforted too in knowing Nora isn't so high strung now. And she's reminded again that she should be happy for them.

When she turns her head to look at Jaune he's adjusting the harness across his chest, loosening it just enough so he has some room to slouch. His chest expands and contracts with a sigh as he settles, and for a moment he tips his head back and shuts his eyes. Assuming he means to sleep, she looks away and mimics his posture a little, crossing her arms and letting her head fall back against the wall.

"Hey,"

This time when she looks at him he's looking back at her, a tiny smirk on the corner of his mouth, and he's holding out his hand.

"What?"

"I know it probably doesn't mean anything, but," he lilts his head, "I just want you to know that we're here for you."

She just blinks at him.

His breath hitches and he fumbles after a moment. "You know...I guess I'm just being selfish, I'm sorry."

But before he can pull his hand all the way back, she reaches out and takes it. More so takes him by the fingers. It's awkward but he doesn't care; she's trying and that's all that matters, that's what gives him hope.

 

_(--)_

Her head still hurts though her aura steadily works to soothe the wound. Tag does her best to remain still and quiet, anything to spare herself unnecessary discomfort. She sits in what is usually the navigator's seat, Daisy and her co-pilot just in front of her and silently doing their respective jobs. Beside her are several screens, some with nothing but numbers and symbols, and one that appeared to be a map of Remnant. In the blank space between bright green outlines of Mistral and Vale is a flashing dot that changes position every few minutes. She pays it all little more mind than that, the bright and blinking lights threatening to worsen her headache. When it becomes too much she asks for Aspirin, stumbling on the unfamiliar word a couple times. The co-pilot is generous enough to fetch some for her. She takes the tablets with a nod of gratitude and tries to rest a while longer, the attempt made easy by the low and steady hum of the engines.

Thankfully the pain has passed when she wakes and she feels more together after a good, hard stretch.

"Any better, ma'am?" Daisy calls over her shoulder.

"Thank you, yes." that is, aside from the cramp in her tail from the shape of the chair. "Where are we?"

"We're almost in Vale's airspace, but there's a couple hours between us and the Warren. Feel free to keep snoozing if you like."

Tag laughs, wishing she could but knowing she really  _needs_ to check her scroll. Her backpack is just beside her seat and she reaches for it with half-hearted purpose, her hand slapping the side of the chair until she makes herself lean over the rest of the way. She hoists the bag into her lap, all but shoving her head inside when she has to dig to find the device. When she retrieves it she'll tuck the bag behind her seat where it was before tapping the screen. Sure enough, just as Jaune said, there's a notice of an unheard message with Glynda's picture beside it. She does her best to remember how to access her voice mail, fumbling only twice before she gets it right. Tension has started to gather in her chest in anticipation of what the Witch has to say.

There's a second of too quiet chatter, an exchange of some kind, and a shrug that comes through clearly. Then  _"Tag_ ,"

That is most certainly  _not_ Glynda.

_"Glynda insists that you contact her as soon as possible. There's a good chance the Fall Maiden might be planning a direct move against us and there is information she needs to share with you. She isn't sure how much time we have so she wants to see to it that whatever she can do is done before that happens."_

Tag swallows a thickness in her throat and acknowledges the thrumming of her heart at the sound of Billy's voice.

_"Also, if you would permit it,"_ there's a long strain of hesitation,  _"I would hope that, should we see each other again, that we could...maybe we could talk about this some more. About us. Not that you owe me that. It's just...I...I've been foolish, and...at least think it over. Please. Be safe."_

Everything about it caught her off guard and she can't decipher exactly how she feels, and she stares at the screen of the scroll after pulling it from her ear as if it has the answer. A hard shake of her head brings her wits back, and then she makes quick work of finding Glynda in her contacts. Strangely, a part of her is thankful that her former Guardian hadn't answered, but the thought of them is lingering in the back of her mind during the entire conversation.

 

_(II)_

Gypsy is worried, if she said she was anything else she'd be lying. It started when she got the itch to sharpen all of her kitchen knives in the middle of the night. She actually couldn't sleep until she sat down and did it, and that sort of thing had -until now- only come about when she was pregnant. She's fairly certain that wasn't the case, so it had to be something else. Then she realizes that it's been too long since she heard from Jaune last, although her mother's intuition is assuring her that he will contact her soon and it's never been wrong...okay, it's been wrong  _once_ . Then, to top it all off, Gee-Gee called yesterday evening and all but begged her to come to the manor as soon as she was able.

Now here she sits on a southbound train to Vale, looking out the window at the morning sky with her chin propped on her fist, her brow furrowed and her long ears anxiously slanted back. Her mind is lingering on the conversation with her sister, how her usually stable, almost monotone voice had the slightest lilt that made Gypsy suspicious -like Glynda's withholding something. In truth, Glynda was likely holding back a lot, as she had neglected to mention what the hell was going on in more detail than "it's serious, and I need you" coupled with a promise to explain everything when Gypsy arrived. It's not that she's against helping family, far from it, but something about it all just doesn't feel kosher. Still, the worry is a little one; even if things get bad, she knows her family is ready.

The train stops at a small Dust depot between Queen's Hollow and Vale, and this is where Gypsy disembarks. She steps onto the small platform with her overnight bag in one hand and starts looking this way and that, expecting to need only a moment or two to spot the massive Faunus she knows is waiting for her. She looks right, left, then right again before her ears prick when she sees one big, waving hand reaching up over everyone else on the platform. They greet each other with a smile and a hug, Billy saying she looks well with the Witch returning the compliment yet unable to avoid bringing up that they appear a little older than she remembers. Billy just brushes it off as poor sleep, "Been busy helping at the manor", which isn't the whole truth but isn't a total lie either.

"Hear any more than what I have from that wayward son of mine?"

"Afraid not. He's back in Mistral with his team and my Ma _-ahem-_ Tag, and she's only contacted Glynda a time or two. I'm to assume they're all right," and they inch their big shoulders, uncommitted. "I'm sure your sisters will tell you more when we arrive."

"We'd best be on then."

And Billy is slightly surprised that the usually astute Witch didn't appear to catch on. If that was the case, Gypsy was in for a hell of shock.

The former Guardian transforms once they're out of sight of the depot, allowing Gypsy to ride the remainder of the way to the manor. A few cars pass them as the lumbering Bison ambles along the side of the paved road, Gypsy getting a laugh at the shocked faces looking through windows and windshields. As they get closer and she can see the shadowy silhouette of the manor against the trees, Gypsy can feel the prick of nostalgia in her chest. She hadn't been inside the house in thirty years or more, not since she was a little girl and her parents hadn't yet separated. She wonders how much has changed and if it will matter to her when she finds out.

She remembers a much younger Gee-gee, the little girl so unlike herself even though she was blood - _half blood_ , she thinks reflexively- with glasses almost too big for her and how intelligent and focused she was even then. Though the two of them were a mere seven years apart in age, it was obvious early on that Glynda was mentally years ahead of herself, and beyond if not equal with Gypsy. And while they got along as children, they didn't really bond because Gypsy had the damnedest time separating Glynda's younger appearance from her mature mind. That had been intimidating in a way a child could only know yet never explain, but over the years Gypsy realized what it was all about; she had been afraid of being replaced as the eldest, as what she perceived to be Maab's favorite.

But that was then and this is now. Gypsy loves her sister, else she wouldn't be here. Still the nostalgia doubles back and drops like a small stone in her gut when she slides off Billy's back and looks up to the ranks of gargoyles and chimneys and then along the wrought iron and stone. Heavens, it's been so very long.

She and Billy talk a little more as they walk up to the house. Gypsy doesn't bother to knock, likely on an old comfort of this having once been her home. Her lapin ears twitch towards the far reaching echoes of the screeching door hinges through the main room. She'll take a moment to absorb everything -how it all still looks and sounds and smells the same as it used to- before clearing her throat.

"You there, Gee-gee? Where are you, you old spinster?"

" _Ahem_ ,"

With her long ears straight up and her head snapping to the side she spots Glynda at the top of the staircase and starting down the steps. Part of her wants to run to meet her at the bottom, but she knows her little sister never was a big fan of enthusiastic affection. Instead Gypsy reigns herself in, taking easy strides to stand abreast the banister until Glynda reaches the ground floor, holding her arms out in hopes that she'll reciprocate. Glynda accepts the invitation though she doesn't expect Gypsy to close her arms so suddenly and so securely around her. The younger Witch tenses as her big sister lifts her up, the discrepancy in their height leaving her more than an inch off the floor as Gypsy straightens. Her face is twisted up in a strange mixture of discomfort and a reluctant smile as Gypsy nuzzles her and showers her temple with kisses.

"It's _so good_ to see you, Gee-gee."

"Likewise," Glynda forces, pushing gently at her sister's shoulders as a sign to be released. "I'm grateful that you came on such short notice. I'm sure leaving your children isn't easy."

"It isn't like they're all toddlers anymore." Gypsy laughs, her hands going to her hips once she's let Glynda go. "Besides, I told you I'd come if you called, and you called, so,"

"Still, I appreciate it."

Gypsy nods once, smiling. "So what's this all about?"

"If you'll follow me to the study, I'd be happy to explain. Although," Glynda clears her throat again, "you wouldn't happen to have anything fragile in that bag, would you?"

"Just my reading glasses, why?"

"Just in case." and she starts to walk, expecting Gypsy to follow.

"In case of what?"

"You'll see."

Gypsy scowls. "Things like this make me think Oseric had nothing to do with you, that you just fell off of momma's back." And it's only when Billy laughs from just behind her that the frustration on her face cracks up with a half smile and the shake of her head. The two of them ease into a steady walk to catch up to Glynda, following her through the house.

Glynda tries to be a passable hostess, offering Gypsy anything she might need -naturally her coffee is turned down, her older sister saying she would have accepted if it wasn't just after noon and also needed to grout the bathroom. Glynda just rolls her eyes and shrugs, all but giving up on courtesy and small talk. Not like this was just a simple social visit anyway.

"I always liked this hallway the most," Gypsy smiles comfortably, her head moving so she can look all around at the stained glass. "The colors are still as dazzling as I remember. Oh," she pauses as they near the end of the corridor, partly watching as Glynda continues to the door. "I thought you said the study?"

"This _is_ my study now. It's safer."

"I understand that, but," her ears cock awkwardly, her brow knitting with a touch of worry. "What's _really_ going on, Gee-gee? What's so big that we need the heart of the house in broad daylight?"

"Well, I assumed you had some idea of what we're dealing with -I thought Jaune must have told you a few things when he was with you during the Solstice."

"But what's that got to do with this?"

"As fate would have it, quite a lot. Just come and sit and we'll explain everything."

" _We_?" she has to ask because she has the distinct feeling that "we" didn't include Billy. She's suddenly swamped by that not-so-good feeling she had on the train as Gypsy forces herself to move, going to Glynda's side just as the younger Witch is pushing through the door.

Gypsy is more than tall enough to see into the room over Glynda's shoulder, at first mentally startled by how much the room had changed since she was last in it. She has no memory of the majority of the decorations on the wall, and her brain is trying to put the furniture in the room back where she's convinced it belongs. Then, as she steps inside, she immediately zeros in on the other thing so glaringly out of place that it makes her stop and drop her bag. Thankfully her reading glasses were safely tucked away in their case, unbroken.

Salem sits at the desk against the wall, hands in her lap and looking anxious and reservedly happy. "Hello, Gypsy."

One spotted ear cocks to the side as her gaze jumps from one little sister to the other for the better half of a minute, her jaw dropping as if she means to say something though nothing emerges. Finally her eyes settle on Glynda, and her shock morphs just enough to show something demanding.

"I didn't tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't come."

" _Th-that's_ what you were worried about? Not that I wouldn't _believe you_ when you told me my baby sister is back from the _dead_?" Gypsy does a double take, making sure the woman in the chair was actually there and she isn't just imagining it. "Mind you, as a mother of eight I've heard some _tall_ tales, but... _but_ ," and she looks again, a part of her brain still refusing to see Salem sitting there. "What the _hell_ is going on? And what does my son have to do with it?" And then she whips around and juts a finger towards the only other Faunus in he room. "Did you know about this too?"

Billy tenses, their face stretching warily. "Y-yes."

"And you didn't think to tell me either?"

"I asked them not to." Glynda explained.

"As if I would've waited at the station another three hours for a train home? _Damn it_ , Glynda, you know me better!"

"Please don't shout." Salem pleads softly. "I know this is a lot, in fact I'm sure it's likely too much," she laughs timidly, "but we really do need your help, Gypsy. There might not be a lot of time and we need to get you up to speed, but if all goes well, Jaune won't have to be put in any further danger than he and his friends already are."

Gypsy's ears fall back and her arms cross beneath her breasts like she's hugging herself, obvious vulnerability written all over her face. She's looking back and forth between her sisters again as her mind struggles with what to do when all she wants to think about is her children. Finally, after a minute, Gypsy takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, stabilizing.

"Alright, alright," she nods, "start from the beginning. And _don't_ leave anything out lest I put all three of you over my knee." And Salem is the only one who laughs because she isn't wholly aware of just how serious she is. At least, not until her eldest sister sits down heavily on the edge of the cot beside the desk, their auras bristling together until Salem's yields to it.

Glynda begins with the hunt in Menagerie, where Gypsy remembers having last heard of Salem, and steadily works her way through the time line she had compiled thus far over the years to today -including her most recent conversation with Tag in regards to the events in Ithica this morning. In between the facts and speculations, she and Salem both make insertions of mythos and folklore where it's necessary, most of which their older sister seems to absorb, albeit slowly. For the most part, Gypsy simply sits and listens, her ears telegraphing more of a reaction than her face. She won't say a word until all of it is out in the open and she's had a moment to process it.

Gypsy rubs her eyes for a moment, looking tense all over in the seconds before she lifts her head. "Does momma know about any of this?"

"Most of it." Glynda answers. "I've been trying to reach her for the last week but unsuccessfully. I'm still working on it."

"She's going to flip." Gypsy shakes her head, smiling though with a hint of insincerity. "And Jarreth...gods above, that man and his... _that man_."

"That's what we said." Salem sighs.

"So you're trying to tell me that Ozpin played us all? Or at least that's what you're thinking?"

"It stands to reason, at least from the way I look at it." Glynda adjusts her glasses.

"But the _children_?" the Faunus Witch just can't fathom it. "Even my _son_?"

" _All of us_ were part of the puzzle, Gypsy. For what it's worth, I am sorry it turned out like this."

"The hell are _you_ apologizing for?" then she laughs. "You were the one who wanted Jaune kicked out of that school, weren't you? Might have saved me some heartache,"

"Perhaps." Glynda rocks on her heels, hands behind her back. "In any case, this is where we stand now."

Gypsy nods, like Salem does, like Billy too. "And you're thinking this Cinder broad is going to come here looking for her focus?"

"I do."

"And for Jarreth's cane as well." Salem adds. "At least that's likely. I mean...I'm fairly certain I never told her what it was for, but she's smart, she'd take it just in case it _does_ mean something."

"But if that stuff stays in the safe, what could she do to get it? I'm aware she's a Maiden but," Gypsy looks between them, "you're both well trained and experienced. More so than I am anyhow."

"As true as that may be, she has her Guardians, and I would imagine she'll be desperate to get it. She won't hold anything back, and I likely can't stand toe-to-toe with that by myself. And even with Salem I might not have much of a chance as she's still recovering to a point."

"But if we stand together," the youngest Witch tries, sounding hopeful.

"I don't know." Gypsy's shaking her head again. "I'm a housewife...a mother...being a Witch wasn't something I chose and it just doesn't mean as much to me as it does to the two of you. I can't imagine I'll be much good."

"You're the most powerful Witch alive, mother saw to that." Glynda declares in a matter of fact sort of way. She's thinking back to when Rusty took Gypsy away to Menagerie and how furious Maab had been, thinking back to how her mother had raged for days over losing her. And it wasn't just because that was her child and the man she loved broke her trust, it was because she had put months if not years of research and work into ensuring that Gypsy be born on a certain day of a certain month of a certain year to all but guarantee the potency of her magic. And her daughter's Semblance had only compounded her sense of success.

Maab had, of course, done that with all three of them, but Gypsy was a special case.

"Regardless of your training or lack thereof, Cinder still won't know what she's walking into. We have a real chance if you help us. Though...I'll understand if you can't."

Gypsy's brow furrows and her ears slant back. She knows Glynda is trying her hand at a guilt trip, and it's partly working. What's upsetting is that she doesn't have to, as Gypsy had told her countless times that she can't say no to family. Never mind that this whole mess has already put Jaune in danger, if they fail here, whatever the Fall Maiden plans to do stands the threaten her entire family. Maybe even all of Remnant.

She won't respond immediately, in fact Glynda's face shifts to something visibly worrisome when Gypsy rises to her feet and heads for the door. She assures her younger sister that it's only for a moment, that she needs to make a call. Billy gives her a wide birth to do as she pleases. Out in the hallway she feels the influence of the ley line convergence leave her, her magic surging back, and that only seems to add to the emotional discomfort she feels. She _hates_ guilt trips.

Gypsy frantically pats herself down in search of her scroll, swearing tightly until she finds it in a pocket of her skirt. Quicker than she likely ever has, she finds Jaune in her list of contacts and dials him. She taps her foot anxiously while she waits for the telling click of a successful connection.

_"Momma?"_

"Don't you 'momma' me, young man; when were you finally going to call me and tell about all these dead folks walking around?" She can hear him sputtering over the line, part of her smug that she got the desired result.

_"M-mom, I'm sorry, I meant to call you, really. It's just a lot has happened in the last week and I got side tracked."_

"So I'm to understand. I'm here at the Hollow and I just had to hear everything from your aunts -I say, the _least_ you could have done was tell me _Salem_ was still alive."

_"I know, momma, I know. I really am sorry."_

Gypsy sighs, rubbing her eyes like before with her ears down. "You know I fuss because I worry, Jaune."

_"I know, but you won't have to much longer. My team and I are headed back to the Warren, we'll be safe there."_

Her ears are up again. "Oh." she worries the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. "How soon before you get there?"

_"According to Daisy, maybe an hour or so. Three at the most."_

She nods like he's right there, like it means something. "Jaune, I need you to do something for me."

_"What is it?"_

"Ask your pilot if they'd be willing to bring you here to the Hollow, but I want you to pick up your sisters first."

A moment of silence, then _"What?"_

"I'm going to call ahead and let them know, but I want you to grab up Jess, Alice, and the twins and bring them with you."

_"Can I ask why? And don't just say Witch stuff,"_

Gypsy scowls to herself. "Cheeky boy. But, to be totally honest, that's exactly what it is. I'm afraid your momma's got a bad feeling...and I hope I'm wrong."

_"...Mom?"_ just that one word telegraphs all the worry he's feeling. Even if it didn't, Gypsy would still know it's there. Because a mother always knows.

"Don't you be worrying about me, baby, you've got your hands full enough as it is. You just do as I ask and get here as soon as you can, alright? Besides, I could just be paranoid and these heebie-jeebies won't mean anything."

_"Momma,"_ and his tone is almost scolding now, because he knows her instincts are better than she's giving herself credit for. _"I'll be there, don't worry. Even if we have to take the train."_

"Here's hoping you won't have to." she allows herself a little smirk in spite of how her heart has started to flutter, nervous. "I love you, Jaune. You be safe, you hear?"

_"I love you too, mom...be careful."_

It breaks her heart how much it sounds like he doesn't want to say goodbye, especially since she doesn't want to either. She loves and misses hearing his voice, both feelings amplified by her unease and having gone this long without seeing him. What she'd give to just drop everything and run home to her family, just forget all of this. But that's not her style. Never has been, never will be.

She'll say "I love you" one more time and then hang up, swallowing a thickness in her throat before tucking the device back into her pocket. Then she'll go back into the study, hoping against hope that she and her sisters will be able to come up with something resembling a plan.

Because, even now, Cinder is weighing whether or not tonight would be the perfect night to take back what is rightfully hers.

 

 

 

Author's note: Another weird chapter to write. I get the feeling a lot of you are thinking Nora was very out of character there at the beginning, and I get it, but it's also why I had her attitude called on immediately. She's still dealing with a lot of stuff and she's always been so expressive to me. She doesn't bottle it up or hide it, she lets it out, and I'm sure that includes the painful stuff. But now she has Ren, right? And I still don't know when that Renora spinoff is coming -I still want to do it, just waiting for the right place for it, you know? Anyway, next chapter is -more or less- the spring board for the big climax, so brace yourselves.

 


	54. Chapter Fifty-Three

It's late afternoon when the drop ship touches down on the sprawling front yard of the Warren, the youngest of the Arc children sitting on the top step at the front door with Lola and her dogs. All four squat canines are barking like mad at the descending craft, Lola doing her best to calm them without success, and Yumi just stares -she's never seen an airship this close before. All of her attention is fixed solely on the craft until its engines settle into a dull, idling hum and the drop hatch in its side opens up -seeing Jaune sends her sprinting through the grass at him in her customary fashion. She gets him by the legs first, almost knocking him over before she climbs up and latches onto his neck.

"Did you miss me, honey-bunny?"

" _Duh_ ," Yumi declares, squirming in his arms until she's loose and can climb onto his shoulders. "Hey, it's skinny boyfriend,"

He turns and looks behind him, following Yumi's pointing finger back to the ship where Ren has just stepped onto the grass. He looks to have stopped mid stride, eyes wide with mild confusion. Nora is just behind him and her face is working into the same position, mostly because she hadn't heard that and didn't understand why he was frozen in place like this. The youngest Faunus then jumps down from her brother's back and scurries over, throwing herself at Ren in much the same way as she had her brother.

"Are you gonna live with us now so you can have a mom and eat food?" she's looking up at him with big, curious eyes and he looks back at her wordlessly.

"Yumi, behave," Jaune groans a little.

"No, no, she's on to something." Nora shushes him.

"We don't have time for this," Jaune reminds them.

Daisy jumps ship and makes less than relaxed strides towards him. "Well we're gonna make enough time for me to use your facilities if you don't mind -a ten hour flight is a long time to hold it."

"Um, yeah, sure, whatever you have to do, Daisy." What was he going to do, tell her no? "Yumi, why don't you show Daisy where the bathroom is."

"Okay!" Yumi slides down Ren's legs to the ground and goes sprinting after the specialist until she can take hold of her wrist, all but dragging her up to the house.

Ren's still a little wide eyed as he looks at Jaune. "Your sister?"

"Yeah, she's the youngest."

"... _Your_ sister?"

" _Yeah_ ." then something seems to click. "My mom's a Faunus."

"Ah." he nods once, as if everything makes sense.

"Come on inside; I know we've only got a minute, but I've always wanted you guys to meet my family."

Tag jumps out behind Nora, falling in behind the young Witch and her partner and looking rather relaxed. She likes how the Warren feels, there's an energy to the place that agrees with her and seems to soothe her anxiety a bit. Pyrrha appears a moment later, lingering in the open hatch as she looks out over the farm. Initially she moves to disembark like the others, but just as she lifts her foot to take a step, she stops and draws herself back in.

As if on cue, Jaune turns his head to see her standing there, his face setting with worry. "Are you all right?"

She doesn't answer immediately, a part of her having missed the question entirely as her mind -her attention- is off somewhere else.

"Pyrrha?"

This time her eyes snap to him. "I'm fine."

"What is it?"

"Nothing, just remembering. I've been here before."

He blinks at her, briefly confused, then it passes when he realizes that she's right. "Oh. Yeah. Um, you don't have to come in if you don't want to. I understand."

"It isn't me. It's the Grimm." and it's telling her not to set a single foot on the ground here unless she likes the idea of a bed of nails against her nerves. Manticore knows what's under that house and under the soil, and knows it'll hurt like hell even with them as separate as they have become.

"Okay." he scratches the back of his head, nodding with understanding. "Um, just...just give me a minute. I'm going to check in with the family and be right back."

Pyrrha simply nods and watches him go, crossing her arms and propping herself against the hull when he disappears. It's quiet now, even the dogs have stopped their barking, but the fallen champion notices right away how they've lined up to form a wall between her and their mistress sitting on the steps in front of the house. Pyrrha remembers her, not by name but all the same. She remembers that the young Faunus woman is blind and has the faintest sensation that she knows Pyrrha is staring at her -the dogs certainly do, so maybe there's a chance she's sensitive to what they see. Manticore is stirring; Pyrrha can sense it's afraid of her, just as she can sense that it's aware of the presence of the ley line convergence that's too close for comfort.

Pyrrha finally looks away, dipping her chin to stare at the dirt when her memories trail off to the nearby lake and what lives in it.

It's only a few minutes before Jaune emerges from the house again, a whole mess of noise coming out behind him -the family's in an uproar with all the new visitors and the rush of departure.

"Going again so soon, little brother?" Lola reaches out and touches his leg, and she smiles with amusement when he jumps a little.

"Yeah, mom needs us." he takes a moment to kneel and hold her hand, not just for her but for himself because he's missed her. The corgis crowd around him, licking his hands.

"I know. Trixie had another one of her seizure-visions the other night, then mom called earlier so," she smiles and tilts her head.

"You mean like the one where she said I got eaten?"

Lola nods, then her brows quirk curiously. " _Did_ that one actually come true?"

Jaune clears his throat, "Y-yeah, it did." he chuckles, scratching the back of his head with one hand.

She laughs with him, then sighs. "I wish you could stay a while longer, though."

"Me too. I wish you all could have met my team under better circumstances."

"Still, they seem nice. Although," her head leans a little further, one ear slanting to the side, "is she all right?"

He stands up, looking back towards the ship and then back to her, his brow furrowing. "It's...complicated."

"I had guessed as much."

"She doesn't mean any harm,"

"I know, but something about her does."

Jaune wants to correct her, but he doesn't think he can. He just fumbles and scratches his head again. "But knowing that, you're not worried?"

"Being blind fosters a lot of faith. Besides, if you aren't worried, I'm not. As for the dogs, they just aren't sure of what they're looking at." she rubs each of them on the head, assuring them. "I  _am_ worried about mom, though."

"Me too. But we're going to do our best to help."

"Of course you will. Now you'd best be on, the others are coming." She pats his leg and demands a kiss on the cheek before letting him go. "Be safe, little brother."

He only promises to try as he sticks his hands in his pockets and starts back to the ship. After a few steps he lifts his head, watching Pyrrha though she doesn't watch him. She appears content to stare at the ground, and doesn't lift her eyes even after he's stepped up onto the deck. He lingers there beside her, looking her over, wondering if he should bother asking the question that lingers on his tongue. Part of him thinks it would be a waste of breath, but it's about her, and Pyrrha was never a waste of anything as far as he cared.

"What are you thinking?"

She lifts her head, but still looks out. "What does it matter?"

"It matters to me." He shuffles around to stand beside her, his hands still in his pockets. "But if you don't want to talk, you don't have to."

But _want_ doesn't have anything to do with it. Still, she knows if she wasn't sharing herself with a Grimm, she'd _would_ want to talk to him. Not too long ago she would have given anything to tell him what was on her mind. Oh the irony that he's asking now.

"If I could be," she starts uneasily, "if I could be, I'd admire you and how you are with your sisters. It's obvious you care about each other a great deal." Painfully obvious, if it were possible. "Then I'd be jealous."

"Jealous?"

She nods. "Maybe envious instead. You give them affection so easily, yet it took me months just to get you to hold my hand." and part of her feels like she would laugh at how loudly he swallows.

"I mean, I-well,"

"Can I ask you something?"

"S-sure."

"Was I just not clear enough that I had feelings for you?"

He doesn't know how to answer. Things of that nature have been so far from his mind, he had more important things to worry about like staying alive -keeping  _her_ alive. Heat rushes up into his face and the whole world is starting to feel claustrophobic. And it only seems to worsen when he sees the others starting to pile out of the house; now he feels rushed on top of uncomfortable.

"When we first met, you seemed more than ready to," she pauses to think, "give me a spot on your team."

"I know. I bet I sounded like a real jerk."

"But then you realized who I was and everything changed. Why?"

Again he isn't sure how to respond and he doesn't have time to think about it, so he goes with his first instinct. "I wasn't good enough. I mean, I lied my way into Beacon on top of being a nobody. As dense as I am, I still learned pretty fast that you deserved a lot better than that."

"And Weiss didn't?"

"That wasn't it." he shakes his head. "Weiss has her money and her company...her name, but those things don't make people, you know? But you...you're a champion. You're an icon...people idolized you."

"Yes, I was idolized. And isolated. And everyone made assumptions about what I deserved and what I wanted." she elaborates plainly, although if she could, she would have delivered it bitterly. Then again, she might not have said any of it to start with if she still felt the way she used to. She would have been too concerned with what those around her would think.

"I was an idiot." he says after a moment, his tone frank and without the self depreciation he had expected.

"So I just decided to take what I wanted."

For a moment he looks at her, the embarrassment replaced with curious surprise. Was she referring to what he thought she was referring to? He chanced that she was. "I guess people do crazy stuff when they're desperate."

"I wasn't desperate, I was going to die and I wanted something for me." she breathes in and then out. "Just about everything I did was for someone else...but that was supposed to be mine." and maybe she had been selfish to do it, maybe even  _wrong_ , but she did it anyway and that part of her that still knew who she used to be wasn't sorry for it. She was willing to give up her life to spare others, the least the fates could allow her was a little kiss. "Though...now that I think about it, I can see where you get desperate from."

His brow furrows and he takes a second to think. "Why didn't you just say something?"

"I don't know." and it's the truth because there's too many reasons to just pick one and be certain of.

Something about that weighs on him like a stone in his stomach, leaving him feeling helplessly small and stupid, like he failed somehow, but before he can think of something to say it's too late; Daisy is stepping aboard, telling everyone to strap in and hold on because it's going to be a hard take-off and an even harder flight. Ren and Nora are right behind her and his sisters file in behind them. Trixie stops as the others head on, her lean but powerful hand on her brother's shoulder with her expression set so seriously it's unsettling. "How you holding up?"

"Good," he answers uncertainly, "what's wrong?"

"It's about the vision I had."

"Lola told me about it."

"Yeah, but she didn't tell you what I saw. In fact I didn't tell anyone that isn't on board right now."

"What do you mean?"

"I've got your pilot heading for the Dust depot instead of the Hollow."

Gods above, he doesn't like the sound of this already. "Why?"

"Because we're not going to make it to the manor in time. Now, you know I don't get the best pictures when I'm seizing, but someone's going to die tonight and we need to head straight to the depot if we want that number to keep at one."

Jaune feels himself pale with an awful, anxious shudder rattling through his ribs.

"Whatever is going on...this thing that's started up is going to play itself out no matter what we do, but we can control the collateral. You get me?"

"Y-yeah." He swallows thickly.

"I bet you think it's awful stupid for me to tell you this, but I just want you to know what's coming. I want you to be ready for when it gets bad, you know?"

"No, no, I get it. Anticipate, react, adapt, right?"

"And you need to react your ass into a seat, numb-nuts! We've got to go!" Nessa's voice comes ringing through the ship, her twin's ears cocking in the proper direction while Jaune's head whips around.

"That reminds me," Trixie has an arm around him and is herding him along, seeming unaware that Pyrrha is following close behind. "Nessa fixed that thing you gave her, that bronze ring?"

"Oh, good, great," honestly he isn't sure what else to say, what with his brain being suddenly split between anxiety and courtesy.

And behind them, Pyrrha is thinking, weighing the notion before speaking. "So  _you're_ numb-nuts?"

And for a split second, as heat swamps his face, Jaune prays the one meant to die is him because Pyrrha Nikos referring to him as numb-nuts is the stuff of nightmares.

 

_(II)_

Gypsy can feel how late it is as she finishes the makings of a seal, the last of four that she has hidden in the house. They cover the front door, back door, and the door to the cellar -and by proxy, the family crypt. This last one she quickly placed on her mother's mirror once she realized it was no longer in the study; it's her trump card on the chance that whatever goes down tonight goes too far south to save. She hopes she won't need it, but also hopes it will come through if she does. Once the emblem is set into the wooden panel behind the glass, she feels a little more secure -not necessarily relaxed, but satisfied with her preparations. She won't be able to relax until this buzzing anxiety passes, and that won't happen until this mess is done and over with.

Though the room is mostly bare, there's an aged wooden secretary situated between the only two windows, and that's where Gypsy has set her overnight bag. With the business of seals completed she moves to it, shimmying out of her skirt to reveal tighter, wine colored cloth leggings underneath. She folds the skirt up neatly and tucks it into the bag, then adjusts her corset before pulling a belt full of revolver ammo out of the bag and looping it around her waist. Next come her guns, the holsters situated in a way that might be considered backwards by most, but it's a way that she personally found most comfortable and allowed the quickest draw. She'll check the drums of each revolver and make sure they're loaded. All of these motions are executed thoughtlessly, automatic though she hasn't had to do this in so long. Some things your body just doesn't forget.

"Still feeling as anxious as I am?"

Gypsy half turns, looking over her shoulder to see Glynda in the doorway. She hums a response, her ears easing back as she makes the last adjustments to her holsters. "Hurry up and wait has always made me antsy."

"Fair." the younger Witch nods. "Are those...kitchen knives?"

Gypsy smiles, two blades in leather sleeves in one hand. "The twins made them for me...my birthday."

Glynda's brow seesaws and her glasses slide down her nose. "Mother left some weapons here. You could-,"

"This suits me fine, thanks." it feels like her kids are with her and that's more comforting than anything Maab or Glynda could have provided. With a visible pride she tucks the knives away where she can easily reach them.

"Suit yourself. Where's Salem?"

"She seemed to be getting overwhelmed so I sent her off to be by herself for a spell."

"She needs to be here."

"And she _is_ here, just not in earshot, relax. She isn't helpful to anyone when she locks up." feeling as ready as she can, Gypsy looks herself over and nods in approval. "What's up your butt, anyway?"

"What do you think?" she adjusts her glasses and crosses her arms. "I don't like this plan of yours."

Gypsy smirks. "I never asked if you liked it."

"In truth, you didn't ask me much of anything, you basically told me how it was going to go and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary."

"We've never been a democracy, Gee-gee,"

"You're being an ass." Glynda snips. "After all that carrying on about worrying for your family and your children, _but you insist on doing this_ -you're a hypocrite."

"But I'm still the eldest." and that gave her an uncanny sovereignty in these situations, per an unspoken law among Witches.

Glynda scowls, her jade eyes scathing as she takes a deep breath. "It's practically suicide."

"Bitch has to kill me first."

"And if she gets passed you? Please, explain to me one more time what I'm supposed to do if Cinder gets her focus and comes after us?"

"If I do my job, you'll have time to get all the help you need and she'll be worn down enough for you to stop her. Focus or not, one can only come back so far from the ass whipping I mean to dish out."

"You're counting too much on _if_. Not a safe bet," she shifts on her feet, cocking one hip to match the lilt of her head. "Especially since your magic has been split so many times."

Gypsy chuckles. "So you figured that out?"

"It took me a moment, but yes. How many, Gypsy?"

"Doesn't matter." she shakes her head and starts towards her sister, meaning to leave the room. "I'm still tall enough to ride this ride, tall enough to make this work anyway. Look, Glynda, you can grouse all you like, but I'm not changing my mind."

"I didn't ask you to help me just so you could throw yourself away like this."

"You asked it of that Nikos girl, didn't you?" There's a flash of anger in her eyes, anger for an innocent girls she didn't know and her son's broken heart. "And all those kids? So why should you treat _me_ any different?" _Because you hate it when the consequences suddenly come back on you, don't you, Gee-gee?_

Glynda eyes her sister wordlessly, gaze thinning behind her glasses as she follows Gypsy into the hallway. Their collective footfalls create a veil of white noise around them in faint echoes, though the click of Glynda's heels vastly overwhelms the near whisper of Gypsy's bare feet. The Faunus wears an expression much like her sister's, though her own frown is laced more tightly with contemplation than annoyance. She thinks maybe she _is_ being a hypocrite, and that maybe there's a better way, but a part of her is convinced there isn't time. That, and she feels like she owes both Salem and Glynda this, to stand between them and whatever is coming because she had all but abandoned them after Ithica. Maybe, just maybe if she had gone with them to Menagerie they would have been able to avoid all of this. Now she's got a rare second chance to perhaps make up for that, even if it meant going all in and not coming back out.

Because in the end it's worth it; stopping Cinder, or at least stopping whatever she is up to, is worth her life.

They eventually find Salem in the library, her and Billy sitting at the chess table beside the door but not taking advantage of the game -the Faunus didn't know how to play nor had the patience to learn at the moment. Instead the former Guardian is just keeping an eye on her, as Glynda requested, and finds amusement in watching her fawn over the album of photos on Gypsy's scroll. As much as Billy had come to assume about Salem, a seemingly inherent love of family was far from any of it. She had chanced to ask them if they had any family, and they told her the truth, only partly pleased when her joy momentarily floundered in guilty grief.

Although it was quick to clear up when her sisters came into the room. "You have a beautiful family, Gypsy."

"Glad you think so, I made it myself." the eldest Witch chuckles and takes back her scroll once Salem passes it forward.

"I'd love a chance to meet them someday."

"Well, who knows, if tonight doesn't go straight to shit you just might."

Salem nods, sighing away some of her anxiety. "Is it time already?"

"That's the feeling I'm getting." Gypsy nods, then looks at Glynda. "Got everything you need?"

Instead of answering, Glynda reaches into her pocket, pulling out the necklace and handing it to her sister. "I took it out of the safe perhaps ten minutes ago, if Cinder is still in Vale it's going to take at least another twenty before she's close. But that's a generous estimate."

Gypsy takes the necklace and slips it around her neck, tucking the skull pendant away in her blouse. She can see Ozpin's cane tucked into the back of Glynda's skirt, so she doesn't bother asking about it. When Billy stands up with an audible grunt she gestures them over with a beckoning hand, asking for their arm. Both Faunus watch as she draws circles on the meat of their forearm, the Witch's hex appearing there in bright gold and solid black relief -a pair of crescent moons behind what looks like the silhouette of a dancing rabbit. Billy shudders, goosebumps rising at the rush of magic.

"You'll feel it when one of my other seals is tripped, and, of course, if anything happens to me, it'll disappear." she says plainly, like she says it all the time. "Either way, that's when I want the lot of you to haul ass out of the house, whichever comes first. With luck, the kids will be waiting for you at the depot."

"Are they on their way?"

"They're not far out now, so here's hoping our timing meets or beats perfect."

"Then we'll come back for you." Salem says, earning a hopeful smile from her older sister.

"If you're able, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Your priority needs to be that fancy walking stick and keeping it as far away from that vault as possible." Gypsy can feel the eyes on her, feel all the different things the others are feeling. Glynda is still angry at her and Salem is anxious -her little sister doesn't want it to be this way and feels guilty that it's come to this. Billy is resigned, likely the most understanding of Gypsy's position, and silently approving. Nice to know someone was in her corner. "Now off with you, you're losing daylight."

The sisters embrace one last time, Gypsy giving her younger siblings a kiss on the head before they part. Billy offers their big hand in a less intimate but no less sincere gesture, the two Faunus gripping tightly to each other's forearms and nodding in reassurance and countless other silent things. Gypsy will stand in the hallway and watch them go, swallowing the thickness in her throat as anxiety washes over her when they disappear. They were headed down to the family crypt, meaning to flee through its secondary entrance once the time comes.

Gyspy takes a breath to brace herself, calling up her aura and pushing down everything else other than the Witch that she is; now isn't the time to be a wife or a mother or a sister. A visible change comes over her as she makes her way back to the main entrance of the house -her strides are smoother, her shoulders more square and there's an almost predatory dip to her chin.

She stops in the middle of the floor, the dying light of evening casting fading prisms high on the wall. She scans the upper reaches of the room, towards the ceiling, and she counts the statues residing in the corners. There are ten winged monkeys, four in the corners, and two flanking the main door, the threshold of the second floor, and above the entrance to the hallway leading to the study. Gypsy will approach each of them in turn, using a small burst of aura to reach some, and touch them with the pad of her thumb as her irises wax a little greener -like her mother's. The Witch leaves behind a glowing fingerprint that disappears after a few seconds.

For a moment she wonders if it's all enough, if there's anything else she has time to do to stack the odds in her favor, but realizes quickly that it doesn't matter when she feels the hot pulse from the pendant around her neck. She scowls to herself with a sigh and then makes her way across the marble floor to a less than visible corner near the front door. Putting her back to it allows her to see most of the rest of the room -a perfect vantage point. She takes up a revolver in one hand, and then focuses her aura until it swells big enough to fill the entire house.

 

_(--)_

One might think it absurd to take a taxi, Emerald certainly did, especially since the thief was more than certain that Qrow was still looking for them. She didn't hesitate for an instant to bring her concern to Cinder, but the Fall Maiden had an unflappable confidence from the second she woke up earlier this afternoon. She's untouchable and she knows it; it's obvious in her easy smile and comfortable gate, and in the too relaxed way she arranges for a cab to come and pick them up. Cinder is convinced that nothing can go wrong today, and she means to leave the worrying to her Guardians. Although she'll find herself doing mental double takes any time she catches sight of a black bird out the car window.

That comfort and almost sinister joy only seems to grow shortly after they're just outside of Vale's city limits, when she feels the humming warmth of her focus in her heart. The energy seems to fill the car as she takes a deep breath and her irises shimmer a little, then she casually asks the driver if he can go a little faster.

The sky is burning a bright orange in the last minutes of daylight when the cab rolls to a stop beside a post box at the foot of a hill, here the pavement ends and gravel begins and heads up. Cinder graciously thanks the driver and pays him, feeling a little generous and passing him a tip before joining Neo and Emerald on the path up to the Hollow. She's listening, waiting until it's quiet before speaking.

"Neo, you and Emerald cover the other exits. I'm heading inside." she delves out the order without pause, needing no response. She expects to be obeyed. "If anyone escapes, go after them. And I don't care what it takes, I want Salem _alive_."

Emerald watches as Neo smiles her customary, caustic smile before cutting off into the trees and disappearing. She'll only linger a second longer, some half hearted protest lodged in her throat, before she breaks away as well. With the help of her Maiden's magic, Emerald broadcasts her Semblance as far as it will go, keeping anyone within range from being able to see her as she advances towards the manor and makes her way to the back. She hides among the skeletal hedges and waits.

Cinder, in all her confidence and bravado, doesn't hesitate to approach the front door, and every step she takes closer to the manor stirs the little flame inside her, making it flare and writhe in anticipation. Her heart is humming with excitement, her bottom lip pressed between her teeth as she reaches for the ornate doorknob, but it's only as her skin comes in contact with cold metal that she feels something...out of place.

Why isn't it locked?

Part of the Maiden simply can't fathom someone like Glynda Goodwitch to be the kind not to lock herself in, even if she wasn't expecting company. To even imagine that she was all but _inviting_ her in was ludicrous, and if Cinder weren't so damn suspicious she'd laugh. Then again, she had to consider the possibility that the Witch isn't even here -if she were in Glynda's shoes, she wouldn't want to hang around either.

Why wait for the big bad wolf to come blow down your door when you could just give it what it wants?

Now the Fall Maiden chuckles. The confidence from before returns and she lets herself in.

The warmth of her focus swamps her from the first step she takes beyond the threshold, rousing goosebumps and a surge of adrenaline. Cinder all but swaggers through the short passage that leads into the main room after shutting the door behind her like a polite guest. She doesn't bother trying to mask the sounds of her boots, and she doesn't know when she pauses on the threshold between that she's inches away from one of Gypsy's seals. It's hidden beneath the marble tile, the Witch having taken on the trouble of lifting it from the floor to put it there. Looking around she finds the room empty and growing noticeably dimmer as the sun sets beneath the trees, and in that short time she feels her certainty wavering again. She's feeling her focus, but she's feeling it _everywhere_ and can't discern exactly where it is. That didn't make any sense at all, and the realization leaves her uneasy. With visible caution she takes another step, meaning to begin searching the house.

The seal is triggered and all the light in the room disappears. In the blink of an eye the windows go solidly black and the entire room is swallowed in absolute darkness. Cinder can't see a thing.

But Gypsy can see her as plain as day from her hiding place. The perks of being a Faunus.

 

 

Author's Note: Next chapter kicks off a pretty serious action sequence, and after that will be a short lull followed by the climax of the story -that is, the last action scenes. Beyond that will likely be several chapters that will be almost entirely JNPR focused because there's still some story waiting for them after all the shit has hit the fan. Questions and comments are always welcome, thanks for all the love and support everyone -be that you've just started reading this monster or if you've been with me since the beginning. I appreciate you.

 


	55. Chapter Fifty-Four

The air in the crypt is cool and stale and suffocatingly still. Not a one of them dares to move or make a noise as they wait, Billy and Glynda both propping themselves near one of the two passages that lead out. Salem can't understand how they're able to appear so relaxed when her own heart is stammering like a frightened bird behind her ribs, and she finds herself beside her father's vault with her hand on the lid. Part of her wants to drum her fingers on the cold stone, but her instincts tell her to keep still. The only comfort is the low green glow from the end of Glynda's riding crop as it hangs from the older Witch's wrist. Occasionally they look at each other, and somehow they know they're all thinking subtle variations of the same thing: _waiting sucks._

Otherwise, they're lost in their own thoughts. Glynda can't stray away from the weight of the situation and worry for her sisters. She's all too aware that one, or all of them could be dead by dawn if not sooner, and she sometimes goes back to years ago, fruitlessly searching for the instant where all of this spun so wildly out of control. Because if that moment was there for her to find, surely it would be in the time where she was the most hopeful and naive.

Salem finds herself thinking about Maab and how much she wished they could have talked before now, maybe it would have helped to soothe some of her anxiety -that feeling like she's forgotten to do something important. She dwells on all of her nieces that she's never met, and the one nephew she has in passing and in less than desirable circumstances; does he know she's sorry? Does Pyrrha? And does Gypsy know how much she loves her and wishes she had gotten to know her better, or how terrified she is that she might die? Salem thinks this is all her fault and wishes she could take it back.

Billy's thoughts are the farthest away, light years beyond any Witches or whatever might or might not be going on upstairs. Aside from the capacity needed to keep track of what they hear or sense through the hex on their arm, everything else is devoted to Tag and what they hope they get the chance to say once they see her again. They know they've been a damn fool, and while they aren't sure exactly how, they know they were wrong. So for the last few days, and especially now, they've been mentally rehearsing the host of apologies they want to make and being gut-wrenching scared that she won't hear any of it. Billy knows they hurt her terribly, and that Tag had every right to deny them, but still they pray that Nature will give them one last chance.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, all three of them feel something that draws their gaze up to the ceiling, a flicker of energy that Billy feels pulse hard in their forearm; a seal had been tripped.

"It's her," the former Guardian knows that heavy heat that permeates the stone of the crypt, settling on top of them. "Let's go." Billy breaks to the front, taking the dark passage ahead at a healthy clip with the Witches falling in behind.

Halfway along the corridor, the sound of footfalls creating an echoing white noise, Billy feels that heat pitching. It steadily swells, seeming to focus just ahead of them. They know this feeling, it's the sensation of another Guardian. "Grab onto me," they shout over their shoulder just as their body begins to shimmer with a silvery halo. They somersault forward in a bright flash, changing into the now charging bison as Salem and Glynda take hold of the thick hair at their shoulders. The door at the end of the passage is coming up fast as the two women make it to the bison's back and duck their heads.

Billy plows right through the barrier of wood and iron, slivers of old oak crackling through the air and old metal whining with shocking impact. And in the midst of it all is the small Guardian with bi-colored eyes that Billy remembers from the train. They charge forward, taking advantage of Neo's apparent shock to hook their horns beneath her arms and throw her upward with a powerful snap of their huge head. Neo smacks the ground hard with a loud choking sound, the wind knocked soundly out of her tiny body.

Emerald heard the awesome crash from her post at the back door of the manor and immediately responded. She spots the stark gray hide of the bison against the darkness of the trees just before it disappears and goes sprinting after it with steady pushes of aura beneath her heels. She catches a glimpse of Neo writhing on the ground as she sprints across the yard, not pausing for a second because disobeying Cinder worried her more than the changeling's well being.

She'll catch up quick, more than able to hear the rumble of the massive animal's gallop among the still trees and ample litter of dry leaves, and though the light is dying she can keep track of the flicker of silver ahead. When she feels close enough she draws one of her guns, the mechanism holding the long chain in place coming undone as she sets the blade to spinning. With a great heft of aura she leaps forward, slinging the curved blade, and with a flick of her wrist the chain ripples and hooks the bison by one rear leg. She simply isn't heavy enough to hinder the beast's momentum, even as she posts both feet to the ground she's only dragged along until she hits an exposed root that's concealed beneath the fallen leaves. Emerald smacks the ground chin-first but refuses to let go, spitting out the taste of dirt and copper.

Emerald holds on tight and flexes hard at the waist, tucking her knees underneath and springing off the balls of her feet, coupled with a burst of aura she reaches up into the branches of the trees, finding the thickest one she can and draping her end of the chain over it. Mentally she's praying this works, partly shocked when she feels the chain snap taught that it doesn't break or that she doesn't find herself with a face full of tree bark. With a swing of her legs she's able to wrap the remaining slack of the chain around the solid bough and then drop back to the ground, drawing her other pistol in flawless tandem before breaking into a low-postured sprint.

The bison groans and bucks, trying to get loose while Salem and Glynda try to keep their grip. The older Witch is quick to notice the thief closing in fast and begins funneling a sharp surge of magic into her crop, the tip flashing a bright purple and popping with hot energy. She doesn't know how, but in the instant before she releases the spell, Emerald seems to vanish, though she swears the leaves still shift beneath the weight of her steps.

"It's her Semblance, Glynda, just throw it!" Salem shouts, surprised when her sister reflexively obeys, and an orb of violet light jumps passed her face in a heated wave. It hits the ground with a blast of leaves and dirt, missing Emerald by inches yet it's enough to make her drop her Semblance. The thief is terribly close and looking to be lunging for the meat of Billy's other leg with the edge of her other blade.

She's much too close for the Faunus' comfort, and even as Emerald brings the weapon down Billy moves too quickly for her to react, too quick to center her aura to protect herself. The bison's free leg bunches up to its ribs and then snaps straight back, grazing along the line of Emerald's arm and splitting the skin with their hoof's rough edge before connecting with her forehead. There's enough force behind the blow to throw her head and shoulders back, her entire body spinning against the momentum she had behind her until she hits the ground with a solid _THUD_.

Glynda is quick to call a little more magic to her hand, casting it against the chain and breaking it, letting Billy continue on.

\--

_That's the woman from the train station._ The memory sparks in Gypsy's head like a blown fuse, almost painful, and she fully realizes why the woman's presence had rubbed her wrong all those weeks ago. The bitch that broke her son's heart.

Gypsy can actually see Cinder's aura, like a thin hemisphere of gray fire about her -colorless to her night vision, and it's potentnow that the Maiden is alert and wary. It's comparable to her own in every way, and that both worries and intrigues the Witch. The magic in the young woman is reminiscent of the same that stirs in her, the two cut from the same cloth -the crimson and gold weave of Fall, and Witches born into this season and their Maiden counterparts share a particular burden: a thirst to gather and use power. It's the essence of Fall; the season for the bearing of teeth, consumption, the final push to secure survival through the coming Winter. Raw power, utter decimation of the weak. The time of reaping. Gypsy can sense that Cinder has fully embraced her compulsion, and that's what sets her so ill at ease; she realizes they are polar opposites on that principle alone.

This fight will be harder -and _uglier_ \- than she originally thought.

Gypsy watches as Cinder appears to look around in the still pitch black room, waiting until her instincts tell her to make a move. Even knowing as little as she does about Cinder, she's all too aware of how carefully she needs to handle this. Everything needs to be just so or she won't last a second.

Her gray vision blooms with a bright whiteness as the Fall Maiden calls a blossom of fire to her hand, the Faunus having to squint briefly but otherwise remaining motionless. Now Cinder's looking around with purpose, steadily making her way across the room, coincidentally towards the hall that leads to the study. Gypsy won't let her get far, her irises growing a little green as her Semblance flexes.

Above them, bright blue foxfire ignites and envelopes the winged statues that Gypsy had touched earlier. The brilliant azure glow draws the Maiden's eyes up, allowing her to watch as the flames conform to the statues' shapes and then appear to come to life. They chatter and screech at each other as they begin to crawl a ways down, and then spring away from the wall and take to the air. Gypsy can't see it, but Cinder's face is twisted up in confusion and disbelief. The infernal familiars start to dive on her, little hands grabbing for her hair and ears; at first she only swats them away, but then she realizes they mean business and attempts to ward them off with a little burst of fire. All the while Gypsy watches, her Semblance working again, taking in every move Cinder makes.

At first Cinder thought they were stupidly amusing, something she would never have expected from a huntress as methodical as Glynda, but her patience was quick to die once the first one latched on to the nape of her neck with its grabby hands and _very real_ feeling teeth. She rips it free, clutching the half-there creature and disgusted at the clump of sable hair it has stuck in its flickering mouth. It shrieks at her, and out of some angry reaction she hurls it to the floor where it breaks up into a wreath of flames and then disappears. And just as that one dissipates, another one is swooping down on her. Then another, and another, and another, until they've all collapsed into a teeming mass about her head and shoulders.

With all that noise, she never hears the dull click of a hammer being pulled back. But she does hear the ballistic shout clear enough, her reaction just able to bolster her aura as a bullet bounces off of it. The fiery imps disperse and disappear -they were only temporary anyway- and for a moment Cinder is totally still, her hands alight in crimson flames and her eyes flickering with fury. Within the halo of her own light she can't see much of anything, only the tinted shadows and outlines of the floor and walls. There's no sign of anyone, but she _knows_ she's not alone.

She knows it because someone _keeps shooting at her_.

Gypsy doesn't mean to hit her, that first round wasn't meant to either -all these shots were warnings meant to go across her nose, not up it- but it was just a reflexive fluke. She just needs to see Cinder move enough, needs to know what the Maiden has up her sleeves; with every move she makes, every dodged bullet, Gypsy gathers a bit of information and puts it together like a jigsaw puzzle. All the while she moves quickly, low to the floor to avoid any retaliation Cinder might pose. When the revolver is empty she ducks into the short hallway between the room and the front door, eyes still on Cinder and her starbursts of fire as she quickly pulls a few more rounds from her belt and opens the gun's cylinder. The brass casings, still somewhat hot, tuck between her fingers as the new ammo slides into place. The cylinder snaps closed and she spins it for luck before heading back in. Before she fires another shot, Gypsy tosses the spent shells in the opposite direction she's headed to draw Cinder's attention away.

The Fall Maiden catches the bright jingle of metal on marble and twists towards it, unleashing a column of white hot flames in the same direction. Still, she would bet her _soul_ that she sees something moving in her peripherals, and those damn, now melted brass shells didn't get there _by themselves_. But she only has an instant to think before she feels something hard connect with her jaw, enough force behind the blow to pop her neck as her head twists hard. Now she's pissed _and_ dizzy. She stumbles but doesn't fall, and then stabilizes herself just in time to have her feet swept out from underneath; but she's a little quicker this time, following the backwards momentum to land on her shoulders and use them to spring upright. Cinder sees the next one coming, the bronze blur of a fist swinging out of the dark. With her own hand still covered in tongues of flame she grabs for it, knuckles popping tightly into her palm. Now she can see them and...it's _not_ Glynda.

Gypsy sees the flicker of surprise on her face and lunges at the opportunity, the heel of her other hand coming up and smashing the younger woman's nose. This snuffs the flames, plunging them back into absolute darkness, but it isn't enough to make Cinder let go. The Witch then rolls her hand free and grabs Cinder's wrist while taking a twisting step beneath the Maiden's arm, winding the limb in an unnatural way until it reflexively tucks against Cinder's back. Then she loops the human's waist with her arm and lifts with everything she has. At the last second, before Gypsy can bend too far back, Cinder throws both feet back over her head, taking control of the momentum to land on her feet -never mind the shock of pain and loud _pop_ from her shoulder.

The Faunus lets go and backs away, crouching low to the floor again while she still has the cover of darkness. She watches Cinder in shades of gray as she fumes and rolls her arm until the joint pops again, then there's another wash of fire that casts more than enough light for the Maiden to see her. The second she knows those burning eyes are on her she pulls the trigger, seeing a spot on Cinder's coat burst apart when the bullet lands.

Cinder stagger's back, looking more angry than hurt as her hand goes to the fresh wound in her belly. She takes two big, gasping breathes before a flash of aura washes through her and burns the injury shut with the hunk of lead still inside. Why Gypsy stopped at one shot she'll never know, but gods know she starts fanning the hammer once Cinder starts towards her with a snarl on her face as fierce as any Grimm's. Most shots ricochet off the Maiden's aura while one disappears into the rafters. Gypsy tosses the gun away once it's empty, not bothering with the other since her opponent is so damn close, and instead rolls aside, gaining just the breathing room she needed to draw her knives. She'll spring up from the floor, going for Cinder's ribs.

Cinder keeps her aura focused on her arms, dampening the sharp edges and heavy force behind them in veils of sparks. She manages to get a couple hits in -a solid knee to the chest and an elbow to the cheek- but for the most part her opponent presses the attack, forcing Cinder to defend. The Faunus - _are_ those long ears she sees?- stays suffocatingly close, closer quarters than the Maiden is used to fighting in, and it's here that she begins having doubts as to whether or not this woman actually means to kill her. She's close enough to slit her throat, so why doesn't she just do it? Although the thought scatters briefly at the sharp burn of a knife's edge under her chin; already she can feel heated blood spilling down her neck.

Gypsy hasn't killed her yet because she still needs a little more, her Semblance needs a few more pieces to the puzzle that her Autumn instincts are demanding she complete. She just needed Cinder to tap into her magic, because that's what the Witch in her really wants; that's real power. And it's that hunger that she has been hiding from all these years.

Then, just like that, Cinder's patience snaps like a piece of dry kindling; her aura surges and manifests in a rolling wave of fire and embers that washes throughout the entire room, cloaking it in flames as old wood and plaster ignites. And there's a powerful ripple of raw magic right behind it, fanning the flames and shattering all the windows and undoing Gypsy's seal in a riot of sound. Now everything is bathed in gold and crimson and broken glass, cooler air swirling in through the punched out windows, hers and her now visible opponent's shadows dancing against the scorched marble floor. Both panting they glare at each other, still poised and ready, but now taking a brief, feverish moment to take stock of one another. Sure enough, Cinder confirms the slanted lapin ears atop the woman's head, but she also feels a sparking memory of her face.

"From the train station." she exhales tightly.

No answer, verbal or otherwise.

Those burning amber eyes thin and her bruised brow furrows. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

Gypsy's ears ease back a little further, almost disappearing within the plentiful curls of her hair. She tucks her chin. "I'm whoever I need to be." Then she blinks, her once blue irises morphing to a bright, molten gold that matches Cinder's.

In fury and confusion Cinder pulls the fire down from the walls, gathering it in her hands on a defensive reflex, her eyes widening as she watches the Faunus flawlessly mimic the action. As if their minds are somehow linked, they both coalesce the light and heat into a spinning, circular barrier around them, the heat in the room pitching so high so suddenly that they break out in visible sweats. When every last flickering ember is pulled in, Cinder hurls the halo of flame forward, expecting but still partly disbelieving that Gypsy copies her. The masses of light and heat crash together and burst apart, the air spinning as the energy dissipates and the room goes dark again. Cinder doesn't waste a second before setting one hand alight again -she simply can't afford to be in the dark.

The Maiden's Semblance flexes and reaches for some of the slivers of glass, lifting them off the floor in a shimmering swarm that she pulls together into a large shard. She twists her entire body, spinning hard at the waist to send it flying with enough force to make it whistle. Even as it soars through the air she's calling for more; she sees Gypsy's eyes flash again and the Witch raises one hand, the glass missile slowing to a stop mere inches from her flesh. With a biting oath Cinder shoots the rest of the glass as is, a storm of razors. In response Gypsy sweeps her arms to gather up a host of glass for herself, pressing it together with her Semblance to form a broad, crystalline barrier that Cinder's volley becomes dust against.

Cinder charges, pulling a hefty supply of magic into herself, pushing with both that and her aura as she leaps towards the glass wall and crashes through it with the thrust of her leg. As she lands she quickly twists away to narrowly avoid a thrown knife, feeling a kiss of air moving against her face. She looks to the Witch and sees that her eyes have changed again, now they're bright green and she's holding up one hand. There's a dull, low hum in the air around them that Cinder is just able to recognize, but not before the jettisoned blade comes screaming back to rip through the meat of the top of her thigh. Another punctuated oath and a hard exhale of smoke before she's back on the offensive, she's pulling glass up from the floor again and forming it into her customary twin swords.

Gypsy moves without thinking, allowing her body to do what it must at the behest of her Semblance. That, coupled with grace honed by decades of dancing, is making it almost impossible for Cinder to touch her. When she _does_ get too close, Gypsy slides back with a little push of aura, impeding the Maiden's pursuit with a burst of fire from her mouth after her eyes glimmer a toxic green. But she doesn't expect -though she _should have_ \- for Cinder to push on right through it, one blade swinging high for her head. The nimble Faunus pedals back, bending head over heels to gain the extra distance she needed, however the sudden movement is also enough to pull the pendant about her neck out of its hiding place.

Cinder pauses just long to glance at it, process what it is, and then she advances again with a renewed and wild determination. " _Give it to me_!" she hisses, swords swinging.

Now Gypsy has little other choice than to stay close, to keep Cinder's swinging power to a minimum, and at first she manages this well enough. But she knows her Semblance hadn't picked up on _this_ , this almost feral madness that looked to have come out of nowhere. Cinder is faster, hitting harder, and the Witch is having trouble accounting for it.

The Fall Maiden presses hard, pulling out all the stops while keeping her eyes on the silvery glint of the thin chain around the woman's neck. She's so close, _so damn close_ ; her focus is a breath away and all she has to do is grab it.

Somehow the two manage to tangle together, arms locked and neither looking willing to yield. Gypsy has the younger woman by the throat and Cinder has the Witch by one long ear, having had the sword she was holding knocked from her grip. For a split second they glare at one another, and then Cinder makes the next move. Summoning incredible heat into her palm, Gypsy shrieks in pain, holding fast as long as she can until she tears away before Cinder can burn half her ear off. There's a raw and bloody red patch of hairless skin left behind. Cinder keeps pressing the attack as Gypsy retreats, grabbing up her lost blade only to send it spinning through the air towards her opponent. The Witch reacts quicker than she expects, tucking to the floor and rolling forward, springing off her hands and thrusting both feet upward to catch Cinder in the stomach. Before Cinder can land, Gypsy is upright and spinning, all of her weight and momentum settling behind a powerful kick that sends the Fall Maiden flying across the room and through the nearest wall.

For a moment it's quiet save for the popping of embers and crackling fire, but Gypsy doesn't take this time to catch her breath. She fetches her discarded revolver and swiftly reloads both of them; her aura has dropped and is allowing her to feel Cinder's more clearly -it's growing like a flood surging behind a dam. Then, from the hole in the wall comes a scream of fury the likes the Witch had never heard, and right behind it is the punctuated riot of every last window in the house coming undone. The pendant burns against her chest, one half calling to the other. She feels the air vibrating around her and then catches the movement of glass still scattered across the floor. It's looking to stir by itself, and the hiss of its friction with the floor grows steadily louder. After only a few seconds, what was once a ringing hiss turns into a storm of rhythmic footfalls. Gypsy watches as the glass around her lifts off the ground and gathers into three large masses, taking shape into hulking, quadrupedal bodies.

Four legs with glass talon paws, tails full of transparent barbs disguised as the grain of fur, and pitted eyes set into broad heads that open up into jaws full of fangs. Wolves. Not Beowolves like Gypsy knows, that her brain can process, but terrifyingly commonplace wolves. Those first three stalk towards her, their crystalline coats catching bronze and yellow in the firelight, and then lunge in unison. With a knife between her teeth and a gun in each hand she responds, pulling the triggers rhythmically one after the other, aiming for the space between the familiars' empty eyes. One collapses to the floor, its face blown apart, the other loses a whole chunk and keeps coming. Gypsy's eyes flash with a blink, one iris turning gold and the other waxing an icy blue as she twines her magic to do two things at one; she calls the fallen glass wolf to her whim and compounds more shards into it until it grows three new heads. The Witch's own canine thrall catches Cinder's before it can grab hold of her.

The third wolf misses in its lunge as well, but puts its paws to the wall to spring off of it after the Faunus with a snap of its jaws. Having jumped out of reach, Gypsy's flying through the air as she turns over and pulls both triggers, both rounds burrowing into the creature's chest with an erupting puff of dust. It keeps coming, running her down as she hits the floor, and she's just quick enough to turn one revolver over in her hand to swing with the handle and snap off its snout. Then, once she has her wits about her again, both eyes burn gold as she uses the highjacked Semblance to unmake the beast and reduce it to powder. Gypsy scrambles to her feet the instant she knows she can, and not a moment too soon as she spies Cinder climbing out of the hole in the wall. But before she can even take two steps she stops, her heart sinking as the doorway that leads towards the study bursts apart in a storm of slivers, a whole pack of stained glass wolves shattering through it en mass.

Before they turn on her, Gypsy sends a pulse of magic through the house to trigger another seal, praying it works.

Cinder can feel her focus now and it burns like a paper thin but deep cut at the center of her chest. For a moment she watches her wolves, shaking the dust and splinters away as fangs and claws meet blades and bullets. A part of her knows this is the end, knows that she's won, but at this point she doesn't just want to _win_ -she wants to be damn sure that this bitch knows _she lost_. Now that she so close to her focus, Cinder can interact with it, and when it looks like Gypsy just might pull free of the teeming mess of savage glass, she does just that. Fingers hook claw-like at her sides, her irises flash white hot as her aura surges and in her mind it feels like the caress of an old friend; Gypsy screams as the token around her neck heats up so much that it burns. Any metal on the necklace is glowing and whatever skin it touches begins to swell and blister. Gypsy tries -gods above, _does she try_ \- but she can only take so much before the wolves swamp her and drag her to the floor. A mental command from the Maiden keeps them from killing her outright.

Panting, aching and angry, Cinder crosses the blackened floor with almost no visible hurry. She's wholly focused on the Witch struggling beneath her glass familiars, not even turning her head when the three headed construct comes for her -she simply brings it to heel with a wave of her hand. When she draws close enough some of the wolves kowtow and slink aside, allowing her a look at the quarry they had acquired.

Gypsy does her best not to move in spite of how her brain is screaming for her to do it, to try and tear herself free of the countless razor sharp teeth that are stuck in her. The beasts have her by the wrists, the ankles, even the hips and shoulders, and one has its muzzle just secure enough about her throat; even an inch of movement would cost her dearly, and all of her threadbare concentration is on maintaining the thin barrier of her aura between her and a severed artery or two.

Cinder says nothing as she crouches down with the three-headed wolf looming behind her, and appears to ignore Gypsy's caustic glare as she reaches for the still glowing necklace. It dangles towards the floor, the chain having left a series of stripes like spiderwebs blistering across the woman's collarbones. Carefully, so carefully, Cinder reaches around and unhooks the clasp because she doesn't want to break it. Not yet, now's not the time. She'll carefully cradle the token in both hands, beholden to it, before she loops her own neck with the chain and tucks it beneath her coat. Finally, _finally_ , and it feels like coming home, something she can't say she's ever felt honestly before. This is the closest she's ever been to feeling whole.

The Fall Maiden takes a deep yet quick breath through flared nostrils, looking to calm herself a touch. "Now," she exhales, "seeing as you're here, I'm going to assume you know Glynda. I'm also going to assume you've at least met Salem. So I will only ask this. _Once_. Where is she?"

Gypsy says nothing, the muscles in her jaw bunching as she grits her teeth.

"I know she's alive, so don't bother lying to me."

Still nothing.

Part of Cinder is glad she's choosing to be uncooperative, thinking she'll get a little enjoyment out of this after all. "Maybe you'd like some time to think about it? Alright, how does ten seconds sound?" She smirks comfortably and then snaps her fingers, the wolves collapsing around the Witch in a teeming mass of violence.

\--

Down the hall of shattered stained glass and stalwart statues is the study, but before that is one other room tucked to the side that is almost never used. Within, near a far corner and situated in front of a chair, is the body length mirror that is Maab's focus, and when a pain choked scream echoes through the house, the once placid glass shudders with a powerful azure light and collapses inward.

Maab had felt the pull of her daughter's magic and responded as quickly as she could, knowing something was terribly wrong. With Thorn in hand she leaped through the mirror, hitting the ground on the other side running as quickly as her little feet would allow. As she sprints through the adjacent corridor she snaps her fingers, one hand beginning to glow with fox fire, and then reaches out to sweep her palm across any knight statue she could reach. A dozen stone figures ignite, wreathed from top to bottom in magical fire that frames every detail and then begins to move of its own will as a perfect copy. They all fall into line behind the Witch and charge through the corridor towards its end.

The foxfire figures part like a wave as they swarm into the room, surging on the pack of wolves from two sides. Instantly glass bodies start shattering, body parts flying through the air and hitting marble where they're reduced to dust. Maab will dispatch two on her own, a single strike each marked with a snarling shout of desperate strength. In that moment all she cares about is Gypsy, and she'll allow her knights to handle everything else as she finds her eldest beneath two hunks of glass that resemble haunches and hindquarters. Thorn clatters to the ground, all but forgotten as Maab takes Gypsy's head in her hands. Her daughter's face, almost every inch of her is covered in blood and she doesn't know how to feel -Witches were never meant to shed blood, only to draw it.

"G-Gypsy, please," she's already shaking, "please, dear, answer me,"

Gypsy sputters, face tight with pain. "W-we have to stop her. Salem's gonna die if we don't."

"Hush now, mother's here, you'll be all right."

"No, I'm fine, you have to get to Salem."

"I won't-,"

Gypsy jerks, her entire body quaking with pain when her shaky hands cinch around her mother's wrists and she forces her eyes open to glare at her. "Gods damn it, momma, _I'm not your only child_! Glynda and Salem, _remember them_? They're out there and that feral bitch has an eye on them! _They_ need you more than me!"

For a few seconds Maab just gapes at her, her glasses threatening to slide right off her nose. Then her ears fold back and she withers, only a little ashamed of herself. "Of course, you're absolutely right. Yes. Where were they headed?"

"East, there's a Dust depot just down the road a ways. My boy's on the way to meet them, but," she has to stop to breathe, the pain is _so bad_ -worse than child birth. She's shaking her head, "Those kids aren't ready for her, momma."

Maab nods. "Alright. Rest easy, dear, know that I'll do what I can. But I'm leaving Genkuro with you."

"Just go, momma. _Please_."

Another nod and a wave of her hand banishes the other fiery familiars in the room, bringing the foxfire back to the Witch's hands where it forms into a melon shaped orb. It swirls brightly for a moment before it unfurls into the form of a tiny fox with glinting white eyes. It springs to the floor and coils up beside Gypsy's head, where it will stay, keeping her safe and stable until her aura can resurface and begin to stitch her back together.

Maab reclaims Thorn, tucking it into her belt before jumping through the nearest, now wide open window. Another wave of her hand summons one last familiar, another fox, and this one the size of car that she climbs astride of and rides headlong into the woods.

\--

Neo can feel the looming presence of Cinder in the forest, and that's the only thing that keeps her from descending on the silver bison galloping below. Instead she continues on her chosen path, having used her Maiden's lent magic to change into an owl to follow the Witches unheard and unhindered by the now near total darkness. She keeps as close as she can, knowing Cinder would just hone in on her and follow the invisible tether that binds them.

Cinder is closing in fast, moving through the trees as the wind itself on the back of the three headed wolf stolen from the Faunus Witch. She has that feeling back, that dauntless confidence, only now it's amplified tenfold. Her focus pulses warmly between her breasts, feeling like it has always belonged there, and her soul feeds off of its missing fragment unashamedly. She hasn't felt this powerful since she took the last of Amber's magic for herself. The only distraction she has is a little one that tugs at the coattails of her mind: she can't sense Emerald anywhere. She knows Neo is nearby, but there's no sign of her other Guardian.

Hell, that can wait.

The Fall Maiden tucks close to her familiar's back and clenches her thighs, pushing the artificial animal that much faster in confidence that it wouldn't tire.

\--

Glynda and Salem know she's coming, they can feel Cinder's aura against their necks as a hot, manic breath. The older Witch chances a look over her shoulder, but isn't sure if she believes seeing the two pricks of burning brimstone shining through the darkness some yards yet behind.

"Glynda, look," Salem pats her sister's back to get her attention. "There are light's up ahead,"

She's facing forward again and having to squint to make out the small collection of points ahead that glow white against the darkness. Glynda can't imagine that they could be anything else, but that's just as unsettling as comforting. She's fairly certain the trees around them are starting to thin and spread out; they would be on open ground soon and that could be where the fates decide if they succeed or not. If Cinder is following them, a flat, uncluttered spread of earth would make it all too easy for her to gain and possibly overtake them. Then again, a beast like Billy likely runs best under those condition as well, so it could go either way. Still, she hated those odds.

Sure enough the forest gives way to a spanning lane of dry and short grass that's a yawning stretch of a hundred yards across and countless yards long running north to south; on the other side is more trees just another fifty yards deep before opening up to the manicured grounds of the Dust depot. No longer having to swerve around tree trunks and roots, Billy gains noticeable hurry in their strides, enough to make the Witches clutch tighter to the their back as well as to each other.

But they don't know about the Maiden in hot pursuit, they don't sense her magic because it's too much like Gypsy's and the hex is still on them. They have no idea there's a monstrous wolf with three heads and made of glass sprinting madly across the meadow behind them, with its rider upright and collecting shards of its body into her hands to form a bow and a trio of arrows. Before setting one to the seemingly invisible string, Cinder touches the wolf's side, the creature sprouting two more legs that reach down from the middle of its underbelly; it splits in two, the Maiden gripping one neck with one head while the other two cut away. That goes for the bison directly while Cinder tries to approach from the far side. She rises up in the saddle, stabilizing herself as she draws the bow. She waits until the two-headed familiar catches up to the bison and snaps at its feet, making it buck and stumble, then she lets the arrow fly. As dark as it is, Cinder's only so sure of her aim.

Glynda hears the sharp whistle of air passing her ear and jerks in response, unintentionally pulling on Billy's hair and turning them off their chosen path, turning them towards the wolf that the Witch finally sees and balks at. The glass familiar snaps again, one set of jaws snapping around Billy's horn and the other taking a mouthful of thick hide. With a guttural groan the Faunus is dragged to the ground. Glynda and Salem scramble to get out of the way as Billy struggles to stand back up, not wanting to be trampled while the wolf still tries to overpower them. The older Witch gathers an orb of violet energy to the end of her crop, meaning to shatter the damn thing but not fully realizing she was more successful at putting a bulls eye on herself. Cinder already had another arrow set and lets it loose once she sees the light; it's not the surest shot, but it still hits and puts Glynda on the ground. Cinder delights in the shocked choking noise she heard before she dropped.

Salem swallows the burning panic of seeing the faint outline of her sister lying there, the effort made easier when she makes out the movement of her chest and the pained oaths Glynda spits through a tight jaw. Knowing she's alive for the time being helps Salem find her resolve, and the younger Witch pats the grass for the cane she knows dropped somewhere because she's still a huntress, by gods, and she isn't going to just lay here and die. Her hand wraps around cold steel and one finger pulls the slender trigger on the handle to extend the cane's hard edge. At a glance she has no idea where Cinder is -she can hear the flurry of footfalls from both wolves and the lumbering bison still fighting to free themselves, but she isn't too concerned; she can't see in the dark, but she's fairly certain that Grimm can.

For the first time in sixteen years, she confidently grips her Semblance and lets it blossom, her influence spreading as far as it can to reach the one mote of darkness she feels nearby.

 

_(--)_

_"We've got three minutes between us and the depot, brace yourselves for a rough landing."_

Daisy's voice echoes with a metallic ring through the staging bay of the drop ship, all heads and ears turned to the intercom speaker in the ceiling. When it's quiet again most of them look at each other, stirring in their seats, anxious. The only one who doesn't move in some way is Pyrrha, but that doesn't much surprise anyone at this point. However none of them are aware that she isn't feeling well.

She feels physically uncomfortable, like there's a heavy static charge in the air and it's nagging at her stomach like a pitted hunger. Her heart pounds, her blood throbbing around her teeth and the tips of her fingers. It's been like this for several minutes and only seems to be getting worse the closer they get to their destination. Then Pyrrha realizes the Grimm inside of her is stirring, its attention bristling towards something and cautiously beckoning her to heed it as well. Pyrrha tries to ignore it, her instincts rising to a sense of danger, but can't keep still for very long. Tag feels it too, but doesn't realize what's happening until it's much too late.

The Spring Maiden feels a surge of energy around her and snaps to attention just as Pyrrha straightens sharply in her seat. Quickly the fallen champion unclasps her harness and stands up, taking long, confident strides as everyone begins to panic when she passes. Before anyone can fully process what's happening, Pyrrha reaches the far end of the staging bay and hits the control panel for the sliding door, making it open to the sucking, howling air outside. A siren sounds and the intercom crackles, Specialist Holiday demanding " _who the fuck opened **my** ship?!_ ", but no one can hear her over the unanimous shouting. Jaune's fumbling with the buckle of his harness, his heart in his throat as he watches Pyrrha lingering on the edge of the platform and threatening to disappear into the darkness.

Tag squirms out of hers, not bothering with the mechanism because she just doesn't know how it works. She sprints after Pyrrha; she doesn't know what's happening, but she's fairly certain that the last thing they want is for the poor girl to jump. Maybe if she had freed herself a second sooner, she would have been able to stop her, but she dives out after her and tries to ignore the cries of the young hunters left behind.

Tag knows she can survive this fall, so her main concern is making certain that Pyrrha does the same. It's no effort to maneuver herself towards the only other body in the air, her night vision allowing her to spot Pyrrha easily. With a unified push of her limbs she coasts along until she can grab the girl by the ankle and pull her in. Tag keeps her close, turning so her own back is to the ground, and she pushes her aura and magic outward, layering the combined energy around the two of them as dense as she's able because they only have as few seconds. She shuts her eyes and waits.

The impact is hard, jolting, almost enough to knock the wind out of Tag as well as make her sick as it feels like they roll across the ground for miles. When it all finally stops she can't help but let herself lay flat on and be still for a second. What she would give for a full minute or two, but she can hear Pyrrha already getting to her feet. It's difficult, but the Maiden rises up and goes after her.

Only a few strides bring her alongside Pyrrha and then her worries suddenly double over; a glance at the young woman allows her to see the bright, caustic glow of her eyes, and her night vision reenforces that already awful feeling as she can make out the paling of Pyrrha's skin and the swelling of the black veins across her face.

The only thing worse than that is the distinct heat of the Fall Maiden's presence that washes over her, and the glowing ring of fire raging nearby -the ring of fire she knows they're heading right into.

\--

Now Salem can see Cinder just fine thanks to the ten foot tall wall of flames that surrounds them, mitigating her sense of exposure with the sense of confidence in being able to hit a target with certainty. She stands ready with Ozpin's cane in her hand like a sword, calling back to her mind all the years of training she can still feel in her bones to steady her hands that want to shake so badly. All the while her Semblance is still calling out to the only Grimm it could find.

At first Cinder only circles her and Glynda, the older Witch still partly crippled by the pain of the arrow going through the meat between her neck and shoulder. When the Maiden charges, Salem sets her stance, plants her feet, and waits for the last possible second to move; one powerful, upward swing is enough to cleanly sever the head of the glass familiar, the construct crumbling to dust after several stumbling steps. But Cinder's quick to retaliate, separating her bow into twin blades before renewing her assault. Salem is much quicker than she anticipates. The Witch moves in an instant, almost like she was never there and seems to reappear somewhere else a second later. She doesn't waste energy deflecting or blocking Cinder's swings, she just stays out of the way by being a thought and a step ahead. But when she does return the courtesy, _and it hits_ , it hits so hard it's shocking. It bounces off of Cinder's plentiful aura with a jolt of vibration that feels more like getting hit by a truck. She handles the cane like a katana and Cinder finds that utterly amusing.

But the Fall Maiden doesn't need amusement, she needs this damn woman to yield. At this rate, Salem is going to push her until she just kills her out of frustration, but that isn't an option. Cinder has everything she needs at her fingertips, she would sooner shoot herself in the foot than ruin all her hard work this close to the finish line. And now Cinder knows she's pressed for time -she catches glimpses of the distant flickers of an airship's running lights much too close to the ground to just be passing by. Any minute now she was likely to have a mess on her hands, so she presses harder, now fighting for keeps.

Cinder thinks to go after Glynda, confident using her as leverage would get her what she wants, but Salem is keen to keep her back. An impulsive bolt of lightning from her hand just draws the brunt of Salem's aura to turn it aside, sending the arcing energy crashing into a distant tree which explodes in a wave of splinters. Then she remembers she still has a Guardian hiding in the wings and calls out to her; Salem won't be able to stop what she doesn't see coming, and she hopes that damn Faunus will stay occupied with what's left of her familiar for just a few more minutes. So she maintains keeping Salem's attention, but almost immediately she's suspicious that the Witch knows she's up to something.

 

Neo is still circling above as an owl, having been watching and waiting all this time for either a prime opportunity to cause trouble or an order from Cinder -the latter came first.

_Get to Glynda, but don't kill her._

While she doesn't like that last part, she is still quick to comply. The changeling falls into a dive, dropping to just a foot or so above the ground before transforming in a chaotic ripple and rolling to disperse the impact. She stays low to the ground, making herself as small as possible to keep from being seen in the plentiful firelight and draws the stiletto from her parasol before tossing the unneeded portion aside. She turns the weapon in her hand, the silver spike tilted towards the ground. Only a few more strides and she's there...

There's a loud, crackling  _SNAP_ from behind, and while Neo doesn't turn her head to look, she can't resist a sudden stop as something loops her ankle and rips her feet out from under her. She bites her tongue when her chin strikes dirt, and her teeth knock together as something starts to drag her back, away from her intended target. She keeps the stiletto tucked tight to her forearm, out of sight, and she waits to be reeled in. Without a second thought, as soon as she stops moving and knows there's someone just close enough, her whole body twists around. Part of her only cares that she drew blood, that whoever had a hold of her has now let go, but another part is disappointed because she could have done worse damage than that. In any case she pulls her now bloody spike free and gets back to her task, leaving the unfamiliar Faunus on their knees.

Tag's brain works frantically, half of it telling her she's dying and the other half trying to convince her it's just a flesh wound. What she's certain of is that it hurts like hell and there's already a  _lot_ of blood in her hands as she presses them to the entry of the wound in her belly. For the moment the pain is just too much, she can't focus, she can barely breathe. All her mind is capable of is a frantic chant of  _get up get up get up_ .

 

Pyrrha sprints ahead though part of her knows she should stop; her whole mind is screaming for her to stop, shrieking in a voice she recognizes as who she used to be, though she can't. She can't stop because her body won't let her - _Manticore_ won't let her. It's heeding the call of the Witch like before, and if it was possible, Pyrrha knew she would be terrified. She can see Tag in her peripherals and watches the Faunus disappear as she dashes ahead, and she hears something like someone getting punched in the stomach -a mixture of a hard exhale and a groan- but keeps going regardless of what it might mean. All she's focused on is the tether between her and Salem, the leash that somehow remains bringing her to heel.

Her mind is screaming about something else too because she registers the sight of Cinder all aglow by the fire surrounding them, and it's instinctively mortified.  _Your death. Your death is there. You know those eyes and you know what they mean. Stop. Turn back. STOP STOP STOP._

_**Obey the Witch** _ .

So, like a machine, she keeps sprinting forward to reach Salem.

 

The next few minutes seem to blink by, and so much happens it will be hard for anyone to recount later, even years from now.

Billy finally shatters the wolf and changes back into themselves, needing just a second to catch their breath before they arm themselves and make towards the ring of fire. Tag uses a flash of aura to seal the wound in her stomach, muscling through the pain as she gets moving again. She has a horrible feeling that Pyrrha in particular is in terrible danger, though she isn't sure why that feeling stands out among all the other frantic notions in her heart.

Neo now has her hands on Glynda, the stiletto at her throat, and Cinder has managed to draw Salem's attention to her older sister's new peril. The Fall Maiden demands Salem toss aside her weapon, which she does only because she knows her Grimm ally is nearby. But she never thought for an instant that the Grimm was actually Pyrrha. Both Cinder and Salem share equal shock when the fallen champion leaps through the flames and makes a bee line for Cinder. In a seemingly uncharacteristic reaction, Cinder summons a surge of magic, waving her hand to unleash a burst of frost and ice. The pain from the cold shock blanks Pyrrha's mind and she hits the ground. Manticore feels it too and roars in agony.

Glynda begs Salem not to do it, demands she not stop until she kills Cinder, and Neo silences her by grabbing hold of the arrow stuck in her and jerking it downward. Salem drops the cane, knowing it's a fool thing to do and knowing Glynda knows it too. Before she can think of anything else, Cinder closes the space between them in three confident strides and backhands her soundly in the jaw -she wasn't ready and she nearly blacks out as her head snaps to the side. She hits her knees at the Fall Maiden's feet. Cinder just grins down at her.

Cinder drops her own blades, her smile comfortable as she reaches around to a pouch on her belt. Her heart is racing again because she knows she's close, she's about to have everything she needs. She loves the look on Salem's face as she slips the white, elbow length glove up one arm, tugging it flush to her fingers. The Witch's mind is blank with terror because now she realizes what Cinder is really up to.

Cinder wanted absolute power, and now she would have it.

Cinder takes Salem's magic just like she had taken Amber's as Glynda screams and begs. It feels different than when she took Amber's, and that's because a Maiden's magic is almost a separate entity, whereas a Witch's comes from the fiber of her soul. Cinder stole her very life force and took it into herself, the Fall Maiden all but collapsing at the white hot rush of energy that burns through her. It is painful, but it's also exhilarating, and the sense of satisfaction she garners from it all is worth more than all four kingdoms combined.

Salem slumps onto her side, lifeless. Glynda cries with rage, her glasses broken and tears rolling down her face from pain and fury. Cinder nods with a cutting grin and Neo runs her through the stomach from behind. But still the Witch resists, and she'll fight until the changeling pulls her weapon free and releases her hold. Glynda falls on her knees, her arms folded over her stomach, blood rushing from the wound to stain the sleeves of her white blouse black.

Cinder pants, her breath escaping as steam and her open mouth still etched in a smile. Gods above does this feel  _good_ . But this satisfaction is only so sating, and like any addict she thinks she could take it a step further at a chance for something better. Something more fulfilling. She turns to look where Pyrrha lay, surprised and curious when she sees the Faunus she only partly remembers from weeks ago in her hand mirror leaning over her, looking to be trying to lift her up. She feels her aura and her magic and realizes she's a Maiden like herself, but she's far beyond caring; she needed to make a move or get the hell out of the way. Cinder will let her decide for herself as she raises her hand, taking her first hold of her new magic.

Pyrrha's mind comes alive with pain and flashbacks, images that scream behind closed eyes of torture and black magic and the horror of death. She feels Manticore writhing inside of her, clawing and roaring, and it makes her stomach twist. It feels like something's trying to rip her bones out through her sternum, the wound there feeling fresh and caustic. Blood is gushing out of her nose and eyes. She can't breathe, can't scream; the pain just keeps getting bigger, and bigger, and  _bigger_ ...

_Oh gods, I'm going to die._

_I've got you._

The agony surges one last time, and there's the sensation of arms around her, and then nothing.

 

 

Author's Note: Not much to say about this one except it feels like a hot mess. The minimalism felt right for the last part, honestly, so I just went with it. Some things just need to go on the page as they roll through your head so the tempo can go with the suspense you want. There was a time when I wanted this segment to be high drama and stuff, but nothing felt right except this. So yeah. Anyway, gonna jump right into the next chapter; our kids aren't out of the woods yet, so hang on. Questions and comments are always welcome. Also, one more cliffhanger for good measure, I'll do my best not to pull another one. Then again, I'm thinking of writing the climax actions scenes like I did at the end of act one, and do them all at once and post them together. We'll see.

 


	56. Chapter Fifty-Five

Cinder feels a mixture of weary comfort and dull worry, a strange combination to be sure. She's satisfied because she got away with it, away with murder, with magic, with _everything_. That and more if she was totally honest. Tucked away in this old, drafty hideout shack in the forest she takes stock of her winnings from hours before; her focus is still cozy warm against her breast, her finger circling it lovingly. It still doesn't feel like the right time to break it, so she has decided to save it. Keep it intact as a trump card should she -gods forbid- get desperate enough to need it. Yet it feels like the piece of her trapped inside the pendant is begging to be released, to be whole with her again.

Salem is dead -maybe Glynda as well- and out of her hair, and the late Witch's magic has made itself right at home in her own soul. Cinder hadn't expected it to work as well as it did, but supposed by law of averages even _she_ could be wrong on occasion. As an added bonus, Salem's magic had allowed her to snatch the Progenitor right out of Pyrrha's body and maintain its deathbond to Salem -now its deathbond with _her_. At present, Manticore lays on the floor, acting as a cushion for the Maiden to lounge on. It does as she says when she says it, and that's her only concern at the moment.

Her eyes gently glow as they slide to look down into her lap, her other hand drifting along the length of the cane's handle. Part of her aforementioned worry comes from it, suspicion encroaching from why she felt the need to take it and why it was so important to encourage such an instinct. Pondering it she realizes it wasn't her own notion, likely what's left of Salem's essence prompting her. Cinder lets the sensation do as it will, exploring it with a curiosity towards what it will lead to; maybe its importance will be revealed if just given enough time.

The other cause of her concern is Neo; the changeling isn't back yet and, by the same token, neither is Emerald. She had sent one to fetch the other and was getting a little sick of waiting. There's still work to be done and she isn't going to try and finish this job without them, but she feels her window for success is only going to be open for so long. Whoever was left alive after last night's...endeavors were likely already scrambling to make a move against her, never mind that not a one of them could possibly know what she was planning. At the very least they could call on reinforcements and that could prove to be it's own kind of problem.

Within the hour that secondary worry would be dispelled as she felt the glimmer of her Guardian's presence in the moment before Neo reappears in a flash of silvery light, and it gives way to furious confusion as she processes what she sees. Neo appears afraid and can't look her Maiden in the eye -which no one would blame her because all she would see is a glowering hellscape- as she holds Emerald as best she can against her much smaller body; the thief is limp, her limbs dangling towards the floor. Her hair on one side is matted against her face with blood from an awful looking wound above her eye. Cinder jumps to her feet with a push of aura, the hot flash of energy enough to make the massive Grimm stir and rumble anxiously.

Neo doesn't need to look at Cinder to see her growing anger because she feels it like steel wool against her aura and she wants to run. She's shaking, and in spite of her strongest instincts telling her to keep still, she dares to lift her head; Neo shudders at the rage laced pain on Cinder's face, not having expected to see it. When Cinder comes close enough and takes Emerald in her arms, Neo lets her without hesitation, taking a wary step back to make sure her Maiden has a wide berth.

She's alive, Cinder realizes, but their link is so faint it's more like a tendril of smoke so fragile that a breath could scatter it. The fact that her heart is still beating brings little comfort, and a closer look at the wound only seems to stoke her anger. It wasn't supposed to be this way, she hadn't planned for _this_ . She had planned on winning, on decimating her competition and sweeping up the spoils of her victory in a single move. Not this. She had never thought it would cost her like _this_.

But she refuses to cry. Cinder Fall _does. Not. Cry_. Instead she sets her focus on a response, because she will not let this slight go unanswered. For a long moment she simply thinks, heart pounding behind her ribs and her focus pulsing hotly as a manifestation of her tumultuous emotions. Neo is still watching her in spite of her renewed fear, seeing the intense thought flickering across Cinder's features. When the Fall Maiden lifts her eyes to her the changeling flinches.

"Bring me my mirror." is all she says, the deep, commanding softness of her tone enough to ensure that Neo follows the order with all haste. The Guardian nods and disappears.

When she's certain she's alone, Cinder allows the anger to fall away and yield to the hurt in her heart -which she's feeling at a new, acute degree all of a sudden. Carefully she'll take back the place she had been sitting in, keeping Emerald close to her in a strangely caring fashion, in a way she notices doesn't feel like herself. The Maiden rests against the Grimm's side and lays the thief's head against her chest. Cinder tries pushing a little aura through her, thinking it will help and isn't sure if it does.

"You were always my favorite." She exhales softly. "I never wanted this for you." And it's true; though she had always considered this a possibility, she just hadn't expected it now that she was so close to her goal. She had thought them all untouchable at this point. "But I only have one more job... one more thing to ask of you. After that...I promise, after that I'll give you the world if you just ask. Just do this last thing for me."

 

_(II)_

No one has slept, and at most they haven't slept well. Not much of a surprise for a bunch of kids and old Witches that feel as shot through and empty as the windows of the manor. Daisy and her co-pilot patrol the grounds, on the lookout for Cinder should she chance a second pass at them. Not that they would be able to do much if she did, but it's the thought that counts.

Inside, tucked away in one of the bedrooms on the second floor, three members of Team JNPR have posted themselves around the bed where their fourth member lies asleep. At least they hope it's only sleep. Nora paces, unsure of what she's thinking and feeling, only certain that she's much too anxious to be still. That and she wants to blame someone, and by blame she means she wants to beat Cinder Fall to death with her bare hands. Ren divides his attention between Nora and Jaune and Pyrrha as he drifts about the room, settling in one place for a spell before moving to another. He's worried for all of them, though you couldn't tell by looking at him; his face is neutral as always, but underneath all that he's on edge as much as anyone else.

Jaune sits on the nightstand beside the bed, it's where he's been all night, and his head drifts up and down -sometimes to look at his teammates, other times with the insistence of sleep. He's worried about them, he's worried about his mother and Glynda and Tag, and he feels like he screwed up last night in spite of Maab's assurance. He's been playing it all back in his head for hours, mentally chastising himself for anything and everything he could have done differently to perhaps change what happened.

He thinks about how hard Daisy tried to get them there as quickly as possible while still keeping them safe, and about how terrified he was when Pyrrha jumped out of the ship. He remembers being surprised at himself for running as fast as he did towards the fire once his feet were on solid ground. He remembers not thinking twice before jumping through the wall of flames and coming through the other side, mentally floored by the mess he found; he still wasn't sure what in all was happening, only that there are certain pieces to the scene that he remembers more vividly than he would like.

Cinder and her changeling Guardian, the black silhouette that looked hauntingly familiar to something he should know but suddenly couldn't name, and bodies on the ground. He made out Glynda first and reacted, shouting for his aunt by her familial honorific in spite of knowing damn good and well he shouldn't. Later, Maab would tell him that was likely what saved them all from Cinder, as whatever Witchy mojo that had been making her belongings break every time he claimed Glynda as family had broken her focus. The former professor's riding crop snapped in half all by itself, releasing that part of her soul that had been separated to keep her balanced.

Jaune remembers her body starting to glow bright green -so bright it was _blinding_ \- and feeling a hot wash of magic crash into him with enough force to nearly knock him over, and he remembers the paralysis that overtook him when Glynda stood up and started levitating in the air. What came next is blurry, save for some sounds and recollections of varying stages of fear as whatever happened played out. The next thing he was aware of was being on his knees in the grass, his body covering two more, with Billy's body covering him, and their joint auras swirling in a platinum hemisphere around them all. Cinder and her Guardian and that huge black thing had disappeared by the time he lifted his head and took stock of what was left.

After that everything is almost too clear in his head, albeit singular. Once he had realized that one of the bodies beneath him was Pyrrha's, every single thought in his head collapsed around her.

Right now, however, he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. There's just too much to feel something about. Salem is dead, and while he didn't know her, she was still family, so there's something nagging at him about her. Glynda and his mother are both recovering from serious trauma, yet he can't help being terribly worried about his mom. It's what children do, after all. He's worried about Tag but he doesn't know why, because no one knows what's happened to her as she has yet to regain consciousness. And Pyrrha...

Jaune looks at her now and sees the young woman he knew and missed and loved _-gods above, I **do** love you._ Once the blood had been wiped from her face it was like nothing had changed, scars not withstanding. The blackness in her skin was gone completely, not a trace of it to be found anywhere on her body. Even the thick scar over the middle of her chest was a more natural yet pale pink, and her nails no longer looked like claws, though her eye teeth still appear a little larger than average. At a glance it would appear that the essence of the Progenitor had been expunged, but he can't let his hopes get too high. He just can't; that thing could have just as easily burrowed deeper into her to hibernate and resurface later. Part of him prays and prays and prays that she's finally free of it, but he doesn't let that optimism manifest in any way for fear of jinxing it.

At this point he's just grateful she's still alive.

A soft knock comes through the door, turning everyone's eyes to it. The hinges creak as it eases open a little, and though the first thing Jaune sees is just the tufted tips of rabbit ears, he knows by their color that it's Jessica. Those same ears slant back almost all the way when she sticks her head through, immediately looking at her brother with a curious expression.

"What is it, Jess? Is mom okay?"

"Yeah, she just wants to talk to you if you have a minute. But, I mean, if you need to stay here,"

He nods, mimicking Ren's preemptive gesture towards him. "It's all right, I'm coming." and with a little, stiff grunt he shifts to his feet and starts towards the door, patting Ren on the shoulder because he's close enough and he thinks he needs it.

The two of them walk with no hurry down the dark corridor, Jessica taking her little brother's hand because she thinks they both are searching for a little comfort. He reciprocates and they smile at each other.

"So," she sighs, "how's your girlfriend doing?"

He sputters a little, his cheeks going a bit pink. "Sh-she's not my girlfriend."

She looks at him, brows raised. "Why not?"

Jaune looks back at her, his expression accusatory. "Is this really the time?"

"I'm sorry...everything's so serious right now, I'm just having a hard time. I don't mean to tease you." Jess grins briefly. "Still, she's _awfully_ pretty."

He scowls, his eyes on the floor so she doesn't see it. "It just...she's been through a lot, it just doesn't feel right to think about her that way - _especially_ right now, okay?"

"I'm sorry," she apologizes again. "But in all seriousness, how's your team holding up?"

"They're managing. Just like everyone else."

"Well...maybe not everyone, but I understand."

"What's wrong?"

"Billy is most certainly _not_ managing."

Jaune swallows thickly.

He follows his sister to another bedroom; it's crowded and he can feel the combined energy of everyone inside pushing on him as an almost oppressive weight on his shoulders. The bed he finds is big enough that Maab and Glynda are situated at the foot of it, sitting cross legged across from one another. Glynda looks painfully human, her usually stern posture diminished as she hunches beneath a silk sheet and with her hair loose around her face. Underneath she's only dressed in her underwear, her raw and red skin leaving her incapable of tolerating the weight of clothing. Maab holds her hands and a gentle azure light surrounds them.

"There's my boy,"

Jaune's head snaps back to center, beckoned by the rough and quiet yet still very familiar voice of his mother. Surrounded by his other sisters she's propped up in the bed on a stack of pillows, bandages practically all over her. As he approaches he can see a chunk of one ear is missing and that some of the fur is stripped from around the wound. She looks exhausted, looks her age for the first time that he can remember. He settles on the edge of the bed by his mother's knees with Jessica still beside him, looking timid and worried in spite of how Gypsy smiles at him. He sees a love in her eyes that he doesn't feel deserving of, and it shakes him.

"I-I'm sorry we took so long, momma." his voice is unsteady, tight, "We tried to-,"

"Hush," she shakes her head. "You kids did just as I asked, that's all I needed. Besides, you see I'm all right." Then she laughs. "It's a good thing your daddy thinks scars are sexy as I'm likely to take a few home with me. Although, by the same token, I might not be able to leave the bedroom for a spell so you lot will have to handle the house without me." Like Jessica she's trying to ease some of the cinder block severity in the air, but it doesn't seem to work. Her son still looks at her, so concerned and frail seeming, and it saps the amusement out of her. She holds out her arms to him. "Come here, baby."

He doesn't hesitate but is mindful of being gentle with her as their arms lace about each other. He tucks his head into her neck and she strokes the back of his head, and he's glad his face is hidden so no one can see the onset of tears; what he'd give to just break down and cry, never mind the reason why. Still, he sucks it down after a moment, forces his racing heart to slow because he knows he just doesn't have the time for it.

Jaune sits back and wipes his nose on his forearm. "I'm sorry about Salem."

Gypsy sighs and dips her chin. "So am I. I feel there were a number of things I could have done differently...maybe a few could have stopped that from happening. I was foolish."

"In more ways than one." Maab chimes in seemingly out of nowhere, though when they all look at the eldest Witch her focus appears unbroken from her task. "I don't know who is the bigger fool, you, or the idiot that convinced you that having so many foci was a good idea."

"Mind your nose, momma, this isn't about what you think; I'm damn well aware of what I've done and I'm not about to apologize for it just because _you_ disapprove."

"All I'm saying is that you could have _easily_ killed the Fall Maiden had you not split your soul so many times. Once or twice I could understand, but-,"

" _Hush_ ," she snips back, wincing a little. "Like I said, this isn't about _you_."

"You could have-,"

" _Mother_ ," Glynda grinds out suddenly, " _stop_. It doesn't matter now anyway."

Maab still hasn't opened her eyes, but her ears flit atop her head and eventually settle flat against her hair. She says nothing else.

It's tense and quiet for a moment, then Jaune gently clears his throat. "What did you need, mom?"

Gypsy shifts to sit up a little straighter, Nessa bracing her mother's arm when she winces and settles back in. "Well, son, to be frank, a lot of things happened last night and majority of them don't mean good things for us. Not only did Cinder take back her focus, but she stole Salem's magic and made off with Ozpin's cane; I don't know what you know about that, but safe to say her having it poses a serious problem. If she figures out what it's for, we're all in deep shit."

Jaune just blinks at her, eyes wide.

"She could make this mess too big for _anyone_ to clean up _very_ quickly, and it's going to take all of us working together to make sure she doesn't."

"What can I do?"

"I was getting to that." She smiles at him, visibly proud. "Like your grandmother said, I have several focus objects, and if I'm to be of any use, I'm going to have to unmake a few of them. That's where you and your sisters come in."

"I...I don't understand."

"Don't you, love?" she almost laughs. "It's you kids, all eight of you; you're my everything, you balance my world, and I've known it from the second I knew the first of you were coming."

He blinks again, thought the slight change in the setting of his eyes shows he gets it now. "Why?"

"Because I love you all, to put it simply. For me, being born when I was and all that, I can't help but be ambitious -it's the curse of Fall and there's nothing I can do about it. I know hunger like that changes people, and I didn't want that to happen to me, so when I decided to make a focus I chose to make it with something I couldn't replace, something I couldn't put a price on." She looks at each of her children in turn, reaching for the ones close enough and holding their hands. "You're all a part of me, each of you holds a piece of my soul, and I did it to protect you as well as myself." because she knew if anyone ever came after her, managed to take any of her children away from her -or worse, _all of them_ \- that she would have all the power she needed to take revenge and have nothing to lose. "But I need some of my power back so I can keep doing that."

"Okay." he says as quickly as the answer forms in his head. "Whatever I have to do."

"Good, because it's going to hurt a little." she chuckles, a little more when she sees his jaw drop a bit. "Only a bit, I promise."

"B-but...you have to break me, don't you?"

"Not _literally_ , good heavens," Gypsy's still grinning as she gestures towards Alice who is fishing around in her satchel for something. What she pulls out Jaune immediately recognizes as one of her countless leather working tools, an awl that worked like pliers and meant for punching holes. "You just have to be, in a way, incomplete. Now come here and turn your head. And drop your aura so it doesn't heal up too fast."

He just nods and does as he's asked, inching up the bed until he's close enough and turning to the side until Gypsy's hands are around his head. Jaune swallows, feeling a little nervous. Jessica picks up on it and tries to comfort him, assuring her little brother it isn't as bad as it sounds and that she was able to do it to herself. Alice does the same and so do the twins, though Nessa is less graceful about it than her sisters. Gypsy reminds her to watch her language as she situates the working part of the awl over the thin cartilage just beneath the top bend of his ear. His aura falls just as he feels the pressure mount, and there's a jolt of hot pain that makes him jump as the mechanism clicks loudly. He keeps his bottom lip between his teeth, not wanting to sound like a wuss in front of his family.

In the first few seconds following that sound, he realizes he doesn't feel any different, but then there's a cold shiver up his back followed by a powerful wave of goosebumps that seem to come out of nowhere. It covers up the throbbing pain, makes him forget all about it, and then his aura blossoms through him on it's own when his mother's hands pull away. Jaune's hand moves instinctively to his ear, his fingertips finding the tender opening there, and he realizes that his aura feels...thicker?

"Did you heal it up like that anyway?" Nessa laughs.

He seems to ignore her, instead focused on his mother. "Did...it work?"

"Yes, baby." Gypsy takes a deep, cleansing breath and exhales, appearing more relaxed and comforted. "At this rate all I need is a stiff drink and I'll be ready to go."

"Now is the absolute _worst_ time for alcohol." Maab cautions, but this time her eyes are open and she's addressing her eldest directly. "You and Glynda both need food in your bellies before you go off to do _anything_. I'd head down to the kitchen myself, but I have to run back to the house for a few things."

"You left plenty of equipment and weapons here, mother." Glynda says.

"Indeed, but nothing that I _need_. I'll be back within the hour." Maab hops off the bed and walks with purpose for the door, disappearing into the hallway.

"Can I do anything for you, Gee-gee?" Gypsy offers. "Maybe fetch you some proper clothes?"

Glynda straightens slowly, fingers hooking against her scalp and pushing her hair out of her face. What little skin is visible no longer looks so raw, but if any of them could see her face they would know she's still _quite_ uncomfortable. "I just...I need to be with myself for a time. But thank you."

"Can I help you to your room at least?"

"No." and she leaves much like Maab had, with purpose in her steps though with decidedly less hurry and less stability.

"Stubborn old bat." Gypsy shakes her head, and then begins to shift and swing her legs over the side of the bed to touch her feet to the floor. The kids crowd around her when she tries to stand up, each of them ready to catch her if she stumbles until she shoos them off, reminding them plainly that she may be old but she isn't dying and can still get around on her own. Then she announces she's off to the kitchen, choosing to listen to her own mother for a change and feed herself. "If after that we still have the time, Jaune, I'd love to meet your team. They seem like nice-,"

The Witch is cutoff mid-sentence by a ripping scream from down the hall, and Gypsy swears she's never seen her son move so fast to get anywhere in his entire life.

 

At first, when Pyrrha woke up she didn't feel any different. Perhaps tired, maybe a little disoriented because she doesn't recognize the ceiling she looks up into, but mostly unchanged. She sat up with no apparent trouble or worry, to which neither Ren or Nora are surprised though they still watch her closely on the off chance that something's amiss. Ren chances to ask if she's all right, and Pyrrha just nods as she moves to rise from the bed. She'll take two steps and then stop, maybe because she's aware that she doesn't know where she's going or what she thinks she's doing. Suddenly, nothing really makes any sense. She feels overwhelmingly outside of herself, foreign to her own body, and her heart is doing...something wrong, she thinks.

Confusion. Pyrrha realizes she's feeling confusion. But somehow that doesn't seem right either, in fact _nothing_ seems _right_ , and part of her knows it hasn't been for some time.

Pyrrha looks up from the floor where she had been staring unknowingly for several seconds and turns her head slowly, taking the room in with the slightest knit to her brow as her bewilderment tries to manifest an expression. Nothing is familiar, not by a long shot until she sees Ren at the foot of the bed. Her brow pulls a little tighter, her mind trying to solidify his presence and having trouble even though he's clearly _right there_ and he's looking back at her with a face she can't read. Then there is a flicker of pink and white and orange on her peripheral that her eyes instinctively chase; Nora is slowly rounding the bed towards her and her thoughts are split between holding fast and bolting though she doesn't understand why. She doesn't feel threatened, but she knows she doesn't feel safe.

Nora approached carefully, cautiously because even she can see that Pyrrha doesn't seem okay.

"What's going on? You all right?"

That tightness in her brow fully manifests, changing the setting of her eyes and telegraphing the full reach of her confusion. "I," Pyrrha looks to Ren again, maybe assuring herself that he's still really there. "I don't," then she's looking at Nora, beckoning with her eyes for something. She wants to talk about what her heart is doing, she feels the need to warn them about it, but can't. She's panting a little and feeling light headed.

Nora takes another step, coming close enough to gently take her friend's hands. "Hey, what's going on? Talk to me,"

Pyrrha's jaw works uselessly, trying and failing to form the words that are struggling to emerge. The weight of warm hands around hers is ripping her brain back to earth too hard and too fast, and it seems to impact in her skull the same instant her knees give out. Now she's sitting on the floor and panting a lot and Nora kneels down in front of her. Then Ren is there too and she can't decide who to look at so her bright green eyes just dart between them. Gods above, is the room getting smaller or is it just her own body trying to crush itself?

Her wild eyes fall downward again and she sees hers and Nora's hands drifting between them. It's slow to happen, but Pyrrha eventually comprehends how human her hands look, a stark and startling difference from only hours ago. No black streaks, no claws, but there are scars on her knuckles that she only partly remembers. For a second she wanted to sigh with relief, then she saw that Nora has scars on her hands too, thick and pink half moons.

 _You made those._ The thought pulses as if it's from that other, that separate thing that...is now nowhere to be found. The darkness is gone and the thought echoes emptily through its vacancy. It's just her now. _**I** made those._ Pyrrha's heart lurches in her chest, beginning to hammer her ribcage when it had just been fluttering seconds ago. She looks up at Nora and can't process the feeling of her eyes burning. Her vision blurs at the edges, but Nora's bright turquoise eyes full of worry are clear as day. Her heart lurches again. "I...I'm... _I'm sorry_."

Nora's brows jump because she knows this is different, different because she knows Pyrrha _means it_. She sees the shimmer of tears rolling down Pyrrha's reddened cheeks and that makes all this plain enough to her. She's feeling again.

To be truthful, she's feeling _everything_ and all at once; the emotions pile one on top of the other in congress with a flurry of thoughts that hadn't seemed so big before, but are now towering and monstrous. Fear was first, it was the closest to her heart from only a day before when the Grimm attacked her home, closer still subconsciously when she remembers Cinder from mere hours ago. Then came guilt and shame, the two biggest that seemed to compound in all their varying degrees. It's what had caused her heart to race, her body to shake, and the sheer volume of things she felt guilty over pulled her to the floor, boneless. After that, everything else seemed small, but she hadn't felt any of those things in months and she simply wasn't ready to take them like this. Raw, exposed, defenseless.

Her ribs flutter with frantic breaths and she's stuttering, words broken up with anxious shivering and half cut sobs. She feels like she's about to fall, perilously unbalanced, but Ren and Nora are both there to catch her, wrapping her up between them because they don't know what else they can do.

Fractured stammering became one word, then two, then a chanting sentence -" _I'm sorry_ , _I'm sorry_ , _I'm sorry_ ,"- then she tucked her head into Nora's shoulder and unleashed a dragging, pained scream that rattled every metal thing through the entire house. It finally died on a whimper like a rusty hinge, and when she caught her breath, Pyrrha broke down into shuddering sobs.

This is what Jaune finds when he arrives, half falling through the door instead of falling on his face when he stops his rushing strides much too hard. There's a streak of initial panic when he sees the three of them there on the floor, but that fractures into something gut wrenching when his brain processes the unforgettable sound of Pyrrha crying. He'd heard only it once, and some time ago, but it's never left the fringes of his mind, and that coupled with the unexpected pressure of Pyrrha's familiar aura leaves him feeling weak. He can't make himself speak, so he's visibly grateful when Ren lifts his head and meets his pleading gaze. A little nod beckons him over, but Jaune hesitates; part of him feels like it isn't his place somehow, but he knows if he said as much both Ren and Nora would vehemently disagree. His first step towards them feels like he's pulling against the world, and while the rest come much more easily, he can still feel his legs shaking as he goes.

Nora acknowledges him when his hand settles on her back as he kneels down next to her, she's glad he's here and allows her hold on Pyrrha to relax a little, as does Ren on both counts. Both of them keep a hand on her though, Nora's arm across her back and Ren lets his palm rest lightly on her thigh. Both of Pyrrha's arms are folded tight across her stomach like she's sick, and for all Jaune knows she is; something _had_ to be wrong to make someone cry like this.

In spite of how unapproachable she seems, Jaune can't help but try and reach her, chancing a gentle brush of one finger against the back of her hand.

She tenses hard, her body tightening with enough force to make a breath squeak out of her. "P-please don't," she begs, "please...I can't." It would be too much. Her skin doesn't fit right and one more hand on it is just too damn much.

"Okay, I'm sorry." he recoils immediately. Now he feels lost, to be honest. "What...can I do anything?"

"J-just leave me alone."

His expression pulls with an obvious sadness while Ren and Nora look at each other. "I know that's not really what you want, Pyrrha."

"Do you?" she sniffles and clears her throat, looking to try and push it all down. "I'm...what makes you think I'm still the same?"

"I never said you were, I'm just saying I know you, and I know that being alone was never something you wanted."

She cringes, taking some of her weight back from Nora's shoulder and managing to unhinge one arm to wipe her eyes. Pyrrha keeps her hand against her face, half hiding from him, and still looking to be fighting the tears -something that feels presently impossible to her. " _I_ don't even feel like I know myself, how on earth can you say that you do?"

He blinks, shocked at the bitterness lacing the question. But it's brief, he lets it go just like that because he knows she's in a terrible place right now and holding it against her just isn't right. Jaune takes a breath and exhales. "Just give yourself some more time, you'll be all right. Like I said, we're here for you."

She swallows thickly and the rest of them hear it, then her hand slides over her eyes that are now screwed shut against a fresh onset of tears. "I tried to kill you. All of you, some more than once. I'm dangerous."

"That wasn't you." he replies gently but with a solid certainty. "That wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" she bites back, though her tone is somewhat toothless. "If I hadn't tried to be...a hero, none of this would have happened."

"And if Ozpin hadn't made you feel like his problem was yours to fix, you might not have gone after Cinder in the first place. If you're going to blame anyone, blame him, but you're not at fault just because you tried to do the right thing."

" _The right thing_ ?!" She sputters, a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Then she finally looks at him, her eyes bloodshot and bleary. "How was _that_ the right thing? How was it right to start a fight I knew I couldn't win? How was it right when, because of that, _I murdered innocent children_?!"

"But Pyrrha-,"

"Yes you did."

All heads turn towards the door in startled unison, and each of their expressions shift to show a range of fear and defiance at the sight of the Bison Faunus standing just inside the doorway. For a moment no one says anything else, and Billy appears to just watch them with their big arms crossed. The few wounds they had sustained last night had yet to be cleaned or sealed by their aura, making them look more severe than they actually meant to. Then they start across the room with no hurry, but Jaune and Ren both snap to their feet and put themselves between Pyrrha and Nora.

Billy scowls a little, or maybe it's just the fatigue written across their face that's making it appear that way. "I don't mean any harm. I heard the scream and came to see what was going on. Is she all right?"

"She's been better." Jaune answers plainly.

"I can imagine. So the Lion is gone?"

"Looks like it."

"Might I see for myself?" they watch as both young men thin their eyes at them. "I'm unarmed, and if I had meant to hurt her I would have done it already. I promise I'll be brief." Because, in truth, they didn't want to stay any longer than necessary. They didn't want to leave Tag alone.

Jaune half turns, looking back, "Are you all right with this, Pyrrha?"

She doesn't know why she agrees to it, maybe some knee-jerk reflex to be accommodating to others, but she agrees all the same. She can feel herself tensing again, slowly, gradually more with each heavy step Billy takes towards her, and she's quietly grateful that Nora stays close. She can't look at the Faunus directly even when they kneel down right beside her, but in her peripherals she can see them looking her up and down easily enough.

"Could I check for something?"

"For what?" Nora glares at them.

"A scar."

"Where is it?"

"Lower back, left side." They reach for the hem of Pyrrha's shirt but Nora promptly swats their hand away. She does it herself, giving them a look at just an inch or two, but it's enough. They nod, seeing the pale pink line, evidence of a flint knife from about a year ago. "Fair enough. One last thing?"

Nora raises one brow.

"Would you look at me?"

Again, Pyrrha doesn't know why she agrees because she's certain she doesn't want to. She won't turn her head all the way, just far enough to where she could look at them. In the few seconds that they hold one another's gaze her mind flashes with memories that stir up a healthy dose of fear, fear that goes ripping through her when she tries to look away only to have one of their big hands snatch her by the chin and force her eyes back on them.

"The hell is this?" They hiss, their face suddenly set in building anger and confusion.

Nora reacts as quickly as she can, her hand snapping around their big wrist to pluck their hand away from her friend and push them back. Then she pulls Pyrrha back to her, protective. "What is your problem?"

"Your eyes," they point, accusatory, their eyes still fixed on the fallen champion. "What have you done?"

Pyrrah cowers in Nora's arms, her throat feeling much too tight to allow her to answer. Not that she had one if she could it.

"What are you talking about?" Jaune intercedes, unconsciously putting himself between the Faunus and his team a second time.

"Look at her eyes! She has Tag's magic!"

Everyone's gaze settles on Pyrrha and she suddenly feels sick again.

 

_(III)_

Cinder will never admit to the little regret she feels tugging at the back of her brain as she steps through the mirror from the other, darker side. She doesn't know why it's there, where it's coming from, only that it is. It's a rare emotion that she isn't accustomed to shouldering, so she does her best to ignore it; it's far too late to start second guessing herself.

She takes a few steps away from the mirror, towards Neo and the Progenitor still lounging on the floor of the ramshackle hideaway and then stops, turning back to face the black glass. She waits with bated breath, expecting something to follow her out, and it does, something she feels before she sees. It's a cold, oppressive weight that she remembers, that what's left of Salem's soul remembers too. It's massive and abrasive, everything about it making Cinder's instincts bristle in resistance and warning to it. However the Fall Maiden holds her ground and waits.

The mirror remains open long enough for Emerald to come through, at least it _looked_ like Emerald, but at the same time it didn't. The magic in the mirror resolved and closed the portal behind her, and for a moment she appears to just look around as if she'd never laid eyes on this place before. Cinder knows she has, but the thing now residing in her Guardian's body has not. Something in her hates to see the darkness in Emerald's eyes, the whites completely blotted out by solid shadow with matching veins sprouting across her face and across the rest of her body. The wound in Emerald's head had been blacked out as well, sealed and soon to be healed, sparing the young woman from death just as the creature had done with its previous host. Although, unlike Salem, Emerald's soul was intact, allowing her to travel back through the mirror.

And Cinder isn't worried, maybe somewhat saddened that it came to this, but not worried. In spite of what this thing is, she still feels in control thanks to her new magic. If worse comes to worse, she would bring this Grimm to heel, just as she meant to do with all the others.

Emerald looks at her after a moment. "The world has changed."

"Quite." Cinder nods, trying to come off as relaxed, like nothing is wrong.

Red irises ease from Cinder to her other Guardian, seeming mildly curious when the smaller woman takes a half step back, likely cautious. Rightfully so. Then Emerald regards Manticore and gestures to it with one hand, like a mistress beckoning for her pet's attention. The Grimm rumbles and stirs, rising to its feet and padding across the room to what it can sense is familiar. Cinder resists the urge to bring the Progenitor to heel, she's convinced it has no idea that she can control it and would like to keep it that way in case she needed it.

"I need the others," Emerald exhales, "my children. But first I need my mirror. You know where it is?"

"I do." she knows because Salem knew, and she knows how to reach it for the same reason.

"Show me."

 

 

Author's Note:  Writing this chapter felt like throwing up: it kind of sucks and it's a little painful, plus you can't control it, but you feel better when it's over and, in the end, it's good for you. After this, I have no idea when the next chapter will be out. I'm considering handling the next couple chapters like I did back in act one, where I finished the entire climax and then post all of them at once. Likely that's what I'll do. Hope you all are still having fun and can manage to put up with me a little longer, and always, comments and questions are more than welcome.

 


	57. Chapter Fifty-Six

"I..I don't understand." Pyrrha stammers, confused and terrified.

"Look at her!" Billy demands again, looking at Jaune. "I know a Maiden's eyes when I see them!"

Pyrrha pales further, instinctively trying to retreat when he looks at her. She still wasn't ready for the weight of his gaze, especially now under such close scrutiny.

"Tag didn't die, did she?" Ren asks.

What growing anger is in the Faunus' face died immediately, as if they had just realized something they had been stupid enough to overlook. Without another word they turn and leave the room, their steps becoming steadily quicker until they're almost sprinting down the hall.

"Stay put, I'll be back." Jaune says before he disappears as well. He'll catch a fleeting glimpse of Billy as he steps out of the room, following that flicker of movement down to the far end of the hallway. He'll find them in a room cluttered with unused furniture and empty shelves alongside a few paintings covered in cloth and stacked against the walls. He sees Tag stretched out on a sofa with Billy kneeling next to her, their big thumb pressing gently at her throat and one ear to her chest.

Billy straightens, visibly confused and shaking their head. "She's still alive. Still breathing. I...I don't understand."

"M-maybe you just _thought_ -,"

Billy snaps their head to the side to glare at him. " _I know what I saw_ ! I've been looking into those eyes for as long as you've been  _alive_ , I could never mistake it!"

Jaune swallows, resisting an urge to back away, which becomes easier when he fully realizes that they're not so much angry as they are hurt. "Maybe it's like what happened with Weiss' sister, you remember?"

Billy shakes their head again. "No, I've looked her over well enough, there's no serious wound on her that hadn't been dealt with." They're thinking of the awful stab wound in her stomach, but, as they said, it had been properly sealed. "She...it's like she just isn't  _there_ ."

"That...that doesn't make any sense."

"Stranger still is how that girl got her magic. She is -by all rights- the Spring Maiden now."

Jaune feels his heart drop. Gods have mercy.

"You know what that means."

"Yeah."

"She's going to have to fight with-,"

"It's her choice." he cuts them off.

"No it isn't!" Billy stands up and takes two big steps towards him. "It's her purpose now, it is the reason she exists,  _she has to fight_ ."

"No it's not, and no she doesn't! Stop talking about her like she isn't a person. You wouldn't talk about Tag like this, would you?" he demands, not knowing how to process the shock on Billy's face at his seemingly bold response.

When they come back to themselves their face sets sternly again. "I never needed to remind Tag of her duty. She was a proper Maiden,"

"And Pyrrha's just trying to get a proper hang on being  _herself_ right now, okay? So let  _me_ worry about her; I'm Team Leader, I'll do my job."

"You're just going to coddle her," they sneer.

"Maybe she needs it!" he bites back. "You have no idea what she's been through, give her a break, for gods' sake!"

"We don't have time,"

"We're going to  _make time_ , and that's the last I'm going to say about it." Now he takes a step forward, and if he had been a foot taller their noses would be close enough to touch. "And you stay away from Pyrrha until  _she_ says otherwise, understand?"

Billy scowls, exhaling hard through flared nostrils like a snorting bull, and the two test each other silently for almost a full minute. When it looks like the human won't yield, the Faunus chooses to concede and takes a relaxed step back. "As you say."

"Thank you." Jaune exhales, relieved. He was ready to put up or shut up with Billy over this, but that didn't mean he  _wanted_ to. He watches them retreat slowly back to the sofa, again kneeling down and putting both massive hands around Tag's. "I get that this is hard for you, I understand, but it isn't Pyrrha's fault."

"I know, I know." they grumble. "And I'm sorry, for what it's worth. It's just...there...I had things to say. Now...well,"

Jaune feels his heart clench painfully because he knows that feeling. Knows it too damn well.

Billy laughs bitterly. "The small Maiden is going to be furious with me. She'll think this is because of me...she wouldn't be wrong. If I hadn't been so damn  _stupid_ ," another pitiful laugh, then they sniffle and wipe their eyes quickly. "They should know."

"I mean...if you think so."

"I do." they nod. "You should get back to your team, I didn't mean to drag you away."

"It's all right." He shakes his head, then his brow kinks in the middle. "Hey,"

"Hm?"

"What about Tag's Semblance?"

One dark brow rises as the large Faunus stands up. "What about it?"

"Could it have anything to do with this?"

"I..." Billy scratches the back of their head and looks to Tag and then back to him several times. "I...don't know. She's never shown it to me."

"What?"

"Yes," they nod once, "it was part of her promise as my Maiden; she swore never to take my will away, and promised she would only ever keep one secret. I always assumed that was her secret and took it that it wasn't my place to ask."

"That...sounds kind of ridiculous, even for you two." and he wishes he'd kept that thought to himself when they scowl at him again.

"But you raise a good point, maybe," they look at Tag once more, residual hurt flickering across their face, then they shrug. "Who knows. I'll try to see if I can find some hope in it, if for no other reason than I can't disprove it." They clear their throat. "Could I borrow your scroll?"

Jaune readily agrees, finding the device in his back pocket and passing it forward. He tells them to keep it, citing that they'll probably see each other later and he can retrieve it then. With one lingering glance at Tag's sleeping face he turns and leaves. He finds himself unconsciously taking his time to walk back, letting his thoughts scatter so his head can be blissfully empty for a moment. Although the only thing it seems to do is remind him that he needs some sleep.

He finds a little relief when he gets back to the room with the rest of his team, seeing that Ren and Nora have convinced Pyrrha to get back in bed. She looks relaxed, wrapped up in blankets and lounging against a pair of pillows with her chin tucked and her eyes closed. He approaches slowly, quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever comfort Pyrrha had managed to find.

Ren's sable brows lift when he realizes Jaune is there. "So?"

"We don't know." Jaune sighs softly, and the goes on to regale them on what he and Billy had talked over as he settles on the edge of the foot of the bed, no closer. He wants to be sure Pyrrha has the space she needs to be comfortable. "But, as it stands, Billy's pretty certain that Pyrrha is the Spring Maiden now." and he catches a reaction, Pyrrha's face scrunching up as if she's in pain. "We think it has something to do with Tag's Semblance, but there's no way we can be sure."

"Sounds shitty." Nora frowns. Pyrrha's head suddenly pops up and she looks at Nora, eyes wide. Nora doubles back, her mouth hanging on a sustained note. "I mean...sounds...poopy." And she starts to think that it hadn't been the right thing either when Pyrrha looks away, tipping her head back and blinking at the ceiling while still holding on to her surprised expression.

"No," Pyrrha says finally, "shitty sounds about right."

Now it's their turn to be shocked; Pyrrha had never swore before, at least not in front of them. They don't know it, but all three of them want to laugh but aren't sure if they should.

"It's strange," she exhales, "I spent months not being able to feel anything...now that I can I don't want to."

"It's understandable," Ren tries gently. "It's a lot to take all at once. You just need time to readjust."

"But I don't have time." She's still staring at the ceiling and doesn't see Jaune's face scrunch a little as his mind recalls his conversation with Billy. "Cinder has to be stopped."

"Don't worry about her." Jaune says, shaking his head. "She's not your problem."

"Yes she is." she replies frankly. "This whole thing is -in some way- my problem. I helped it along, the least I can do is try and fix it."

"Not by yourself." Nora intercedes, her tone almost cautionary. "Not this time."

Pyrrha's chin drops to her chest, one hand finding its way out of the blankets to cover her eyes. "I don't think I could even if I wanted to." Because she feels gutted and weak. She's not a champion, she's just a fragile child in her own heart. Then her brow tightens behind her hand and she can feel her eyes burning again. Her body shudders and she holds her breath for a few tense seconds. "I'm scared." she confesses unsteadily.

Jaune moves first, and it isn't missed on him that Nora moved to likely do the same thing he's doing. She had been perched on the foot of the bed and tried to crawl up beside Pyrrha, but Jaune was quicker, that and she feels like he needs this. Jaune's been so generous in giving her and Ren as much time with Pyrrha as they could get, it was about time for his turn. Besides, she has confidence that he had something to say that Pyrrha desperately needed to hear.

He settles on the edge of the bed beside her even though there's room for him to climb up -he didn't want to push it, just wanted her to know he was there in hopes it would be enough to garner her attention. Then he takes a moment to get the words right in his head, which is terribly difficult with the sound of her restrained sobs hanging in his ears.

"Listen," he begins softly, "I'm not going to ask you to fight, and I'm certainly not going to make you. Ren and Nora won't, either. Because...well, to be honest, we don't want you to. You've given enough, it wouldn't be right to ask you for anything else. This is all up to you, it's about what _you_ want, and we won't let anyone else try and influence your decision."

She sputters. "That's ridiculous."

He recoils, confused.

Wiping her eyes in the same movement, she moves her hand away so she can look at him. Her brow is tight and her eyes are thin and bleary with hurt. "How can you say that when just knowing you're all going to go through with it influences my decision? How could you think I wouldn't fight with you?"

"N-no, that's not what I meant, it's-," and for a moment the words disappear. He obviously wasn't ready for this. "...Shit," he exhales, and catches himself, "I mean crap, I mean-," and he has to stop himself from trying to talk before he says something worse.

Pyrrha sniffles, one corner of her mouth looking to be attempting at a smirk. "I think we've established that it's okay to say shit."

Jaune sputters and laughs a little, nodding in defeat. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm trying."

Pyrrha nods too, but just once. "I know, and I understand what you mean to say. It just...it feels unnecessary. There really is no choice in the matter; I can't let the three of you go without me."

"Yes you can." he assures her, seeming wholly certain. "That's what I mean, you can choose to stay and none of us will think any less of you. _No one_ will."

"But that's not the point." she whimpers, the tears wanting to surge up and tightening her throat. "I...I don't want you to die."

"We don't want you to die either,"

"But dying isn't what I'm afraid of," she cries, "it's losing all of you. Dying is easy," and she knows that confession makes them all look at her funny, part of her hates it, "but living alone...living without _any_ of you... _that_ terrifies me."

Breathless, wordless, the other members of Team JNPR look at each other, although they're not sure why they're so surprised; they had always felt a loving, familial bond with one another, even in the beginning they could sense it at its smallest, but maybe hearing it aloud just made it more real. Or maybe it just means more coming from Pyrrha.

"Dying is easy," she repeats, clearing her throat after the words are out and wiping her eyes, "I'd do it again if I had to but...but don't expect me to," the words scatter in her mind and it frustrates her, but she doesn't let it show. Instead she takes a quick lungful of air to steady herself, exhaling hard, then looks at Jaune. "If you go, I go."

"Pyrrha," Jaune sounds like he's begging, and a part of him genuinely is.

"No. Don't try and talk me out of it." because she's not so sure he would fail. There's a glimmer of something that feels like courage and she's got it in a death grip, but a word from him might be enough to make her let it go. Thankfully they all appear to accept it and don't press her any harder, but she isn't so thankful for the uncomfortable silence that follows.

Nora sits on her heels in the middle of the bed, staring down into her lap. When the quiet becomes too much her hands start fussing together, and she uneasily lifts her head. "Pyrrha?"

"Hm?"

"Can...is it okay if I hug you?" she requests cautiously. "Because I feel like you need one and I know I want to give you one but I get it if you don't want that and I don't want to bother you, so I thought-,"

"Nora," she waits for her teammate to pause and lift her eyes, "it's all right. I'd actually really like a hug right now." Pyrrha starts to shift closer to the middle of the mattress as Nora climbs almost too quickly up to her, and she's hoping Nora will take that as a signal for more than just a hug. She does, and Nora sits beside her and opens her arms, letting Pyrrah tuck into her side and fully accept her embrace. Nora nuzzles the top of her head with her cheek, giving a sincere but easy squeeze. Pyrrha just soaks it up, smiling a little with contentment at the warmth and security. Gods above, had she missed them. Even when she wasn't at all herself, trapped in her own mind under a cursed sleep, part of her felt their absence and mourned it. However she treads the notion carefully, not wanting to slip off into those moments when she remembers having tried so hard to hurt them; what she has now is so good she doesn't want to tarnish it like that.

Ren softly clears his throat, garnering both his teammates' attention and giving them a pleading look, smiling as Nora and Pyrrha nod in permission for him to join them. He easily slides in behind Nora, his body conforming to hers and his hands doing the same, putting both his and Nora's arms around Pyrrha. Jaune sits and watches them, not realizing how big his smile has gotten or how good he feels just to be in the moment, but he's more than aware of how lucky he is to have it at all. Feels like when a jigsaw puzzle has a missing piece, and you finally find it and put it in place. Feels good, feels right.

"Hey, asshole,"

His musing immediately breaks and he lifts his head.

"Come on, there's room," Nora gestures with her hand.

"Oh," he fumbles a little, his eyes going to the obvious opening at Pyrrha's other side. "Is...are you okay with that?"

Somehow Pyrrha knows he's asking her, and she nods against Nora's collarbone. "She's right, there's room."

"But are you okay with that? I don't want to crowd you or anything."

"You won't." She shifts a little so she can look at him. "Please."

"Okay." And carefully, so carefully, he moves to his knees to crawl the short distance to reach them. For a moment he's unsure of how to go about it, because as much as he wants to just throw himself around her like Nora has and hold her, he has the distinct feeling that it would feel like more to her. Assuming she still has any feelings for him as more than a friend, there's no knowing how she would interpret unfettered affection like that from him. And it's not that he doesn't want to give her that, he just feels like now simply isn't the time; she doesn't need those possibly stressful feelings on top of all the others. After a fashion, however, Pyrrha shows him what she wants, taking hold of his arm and guiding him when she feels he's lingered too far away for too long. His arm curls naturally over her stomach and the rest of him falls into place, his chest lining her back and his chin resting atop her head. His other arm tucks beneath him like a pillow.

Briefly, as they all settle in and sigh in comfort as if of one mind, Pyrrha can feel her eyes burning again. Though not in pain, but from a happiness one can only feel when they finally have something they've always wanted.

"So," Pyrrha starts softly, "is asshole anything like numb-nuts?"

Ren lifts his head. "Who called you numb-nuts?"

"Nessa. She's called me that for years." Jaune groans. "But asshole is another story."

"Which one's Nessa?" Pyrrha asks, glad that he can't see her grinning.

"The beefy one."

"Oh. Well, I'm pretty sure I've heard it somewhere else," she thinks for a moment, "this'll probably sound crazy, but a giant catfish called me numb-nuts once."

Jaune flinches behind her. "Mudbutt called you numb-nuts?"

Pyrrha twists around and gapes at him. "Oh my god, that thing has a _name_?"

"Yeah."

"Who's Mudbutt?" Nora perks up too.

"The Grimm that lives in the lake near the Warren."

"You have a Grimm in your backyard?"

"It's not my backyard." Jaune sighs. "But yes, and he's been there as long as my family has, he doesn't bother us and my sisters play with him sometimes. Why would he call you numb-nuts?"

"Well, maybe it wasn't directed at _me_ ," _he had referred to me as "meatsuit"_ , but she doesn't like the thought of saying that much out loud. "More so...you know... _it_."

"Oh," he feels a wave of tension come and go, "that makes sense."

"But I want to hear the asshole story." she's settling on her other side now, giving Jaune her full attention. Nora's giving her Team Leader a knowing look from over her teammate's shoulder, waggling her eyebrows if for no other reason than to get him flustered -which partly works.

Jaune sputters, his face reddening a little, and he's thinking about what to do with his hands again even though Pyrrha seemed fine with them staying where they are. He shrugs. "Maybe later, we should really try to get some rest. Last night was rough on all of us."

"It's not a long story." Ren says with a hint of innocence, even though he knows well enough what he's doing.

" _Later_ , okay? I promise. Let's try and get a little sleep while we can."

While Nora grumbles in protest, they all eventually settle in under the covers, their positions unchanged with the exception of Pyrrha having Nora around her almost like a backpack, and though everything is still and quiet now, Jaune can feel his heart thrumming at Pyrrha's close proximity. She's all but burying her face in his chest, her hands curled into his hoodie. He feels confident that if she was uncomfortable she wouldn't do it to begin with, so he lets her have whatever she wants. Part of him wants to stroke her hair, maybe even chance a kiss to the top of her head, but he keeps both thoughts and actions to himself.

Time drifts by without his notice, all he can keep track of are little noises and twitches from his team that signify their varying levels of diminishing consciousness. Soon enough Nora has started to softly snore, and Ren's breathing is deep and rhythmic per the usual, but he only notices these things in passing, wondering if he's been drifting in and out as well. Pyrrha shifts in his arms, rousing him completely as it garners his attention.

"You okay?" he whispers.

She sighs after a moment, her face still hidden. "I'm afraid to fall asleep." and her response sounds tight throated. "I don't want to dream."

A sharp stab of anxious sympathy shocks him. He doesn't need an explanation and fully understands. "I'm," the words die and he swallows the thickness that killed them. "Can I do anything?"

"I don't know." she finally lets go of his coat and hugs herself, drawing steadily tense. "Am I ever going to be okay?"

His heart sinks and it steals his breath, pushing it out of his body in a quick yet quiet exhale. He doesn't know if there's a right answer to that, only that there's a hell of a lot of wrong ones. All he can think to do is be honest. Jaune pulls her close, thinking it will help. "I think you will. Given enough time...I think you'll be all right." Because he isn't about to say anything about being _normal_ ; at this point, normal is out of the question.

Another strain of quiet, another weak and trembling sigh. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

"That's okay, you don't have to be. You've got us, and I'm sure Team RWBY will be there for you too. And your family...we're all here. We'll help you."

"Will you?"

"We will."

"No," she counters, tipping up her chin so they can look each other in the eye. "Will _you_?"

His face stretches with surprise, and then softens again when he realizes what she means. "I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He gives her the most confident and assuring smile he can muster, hoping she can take something good from it. When she gives him a smaller, timid smile in return he accepts it, tightening his hold again until her forehead rests against his collar. Without realizing it he starts to pet her hair after all, helping her to eventually settle.

How ever long the four of them managed to sleep certainly didn't feel like enough, and they rouse themselves with big yawns and protesting grunts to a gentle call from the door. "Mama's got food on the table, better get it before it's gone." Reflexively, Jaune is wide awake and trying to navigate his way out of bed, torn between his empty stomach and his full arms. Nora and Ren manage to climb out of bed first, the sudden lack of warmth making Pyrrha coil in on herself and tuck tighter to Jaune's chest. As much as he loves this, he's hungry too, and he tries his best to wake her carefully. It's easy because she wasn't fully asleep, but she still resists because she doesn't want to be cold. He gets her up with a bribe, offering his hoodie for however long she wanted it.

Together they make their way downstairs, mindful of the broken glass scattered practically everywhere as they head for the kitchen. Pyrrha lingers on the sweeping scorch marks across the floor in the main hall, obviously curious as to what made them but not presently willing to ask. There's magical residue all around her that she can just sense and it's making the small hairs on her body bristle. That anxiety only seems to mount as they get closer to their destination, Pyrrha immediately picking up on all the voices coming from a ways down the hall. She's starting to feel a little weak in the legs; she's about to walk into a room full of people she likely tried to kill, there's no telling how this is going to go.

However, Pyrrha is pleasantly surprised to find no one pays immediate attention to her when she and Jaune come into the kitchen. His sisters greet Jaune in what she assumes to be their customary way, her memories flickering when she hears numb-nuts again. Gypsy has sat herself on a stool by the stove, conserving her energy as best as possible while she cooks; she's trying to talk over everyone else and get one of her daughters' attention, then offhandedly tells the two of them to find a place to sit. Without a second thought Pyrrha goes to find a spot near Ren and Nora, where she feels the least exposed. Jaune sees this and doesn't try to stop her, instead moving around the counter to reach his mother and kiss her cheek. She asks him to start passing out bowls full of soup and he obliges, listening to her complain about the bare bones state of his aunt's pantry as he goes. "A kitchen this nice deserves to be used." she laments with a sigh.

"A kitchen this nice only serves one, so what did you expect?"

Gypsy's head swivels around to see Glynda shuffling in behind Jessica, now dressed and looking much more like her usual self. "I expected you to feed yourself properly, that's what. You're barely more than skin and bones, and don't try to convince me otherwise because I got a good enough look at you earlier."

"Are you feeling any better, Aunt Glynda?" Jaune asks, not realizing what he's said until it's out of his mouth and Glynda freezes. Both of them are waiting for something to break, Glynda is holding her glasses on her face. Several seconds pass, everyone having started to state without anything happening. They look at each other, eventually relaxing.

"Am I missing something?" Gypsy's ears move like her eyes, back and forth between Glynda and her son.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask about that." Glynda clears her throat. "Every time Jaune claims me as his aunt, something _breaks_ ; my glasses, the heels of my shoes, my focus," she lists with her fingers on one hand, "along with several other things. Any chance you have an explanation?"

Gypsy watches her sister as she moves through the kitchen and finds a seat, thinking as she fills another bowl and passes it off to Jessica who hands it to Glynda. "Maybe it was something to do with him being my focus; to be honest I've never heard of that before. Now that I think of it, who knows what his _Semblance_ will do now that he's unbound."

"What do you mean, momma?" Jaune asks as he comes back for the last few bowls.

"I mean that spell worked two ways -just as you kids were my focus, I was yours, but it may be different for you, Jaune, seeing as you're my _son_. There are certain rules that do and don't apply to you, and I can't begin to suss out which. Had I more time,"

"Well, we're bound to find out eventually." he shrugs his shoulders, thinking it better not to finish the thought. _Sooner rather than later, probably._

Gypsy just accepts it. "Jess, baby, would you take this to big-and-tall upstairs? They need to eat or they'll drop,"

"Yes, momma."

Glynda hums and then swallows a mouthful of food, "With that being said, I'm to assume Miss Tag hasn't recovered yet?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Gypsy shakes her head, divvying out the last of the soup between Jaune and herself.

"That's not good at all. I can't even begin to imagine what we're going to do now."

"We'll think of something, Gee-gee, don't worry. Between the lot of us, I'm sure we can make something happen."

"I don't think you understand," and she doesn't much like the way Gypsy looks away from her at the hardening of her tone of voice. "This stands to get very bad, and if all else fails, Spring is our only hope."

"I understand plain enough, thank you much, no need to talk down to me." the older Witch sasses. "I know damn good and well how bad it is, but these kids deserve at least a _little_ hope, don't you think?" And she knows Glynda's answer when she decides not to give it, but Gypsy expected as much. Her sister has always been the realist, seeing the glass as neither half empty or full, but simply there.

Across the room, Team JNPR exchange glances with one another and Pyrrha is visibly anxious. They're all waiting for that shoe to drop, because it's going to whether they like it or not. The only option is either let it fall by itself, or to do themselves the honor. The latter feels better, lets them feel a touch more in control, but they forgo it in lieu of eating first.

Pyrrha takes a steadying breath and stands up, offering to collect her team's soiled dishes now that they've finished. They all give her encouraging looks, somehow knowing what she's likely about to do, and then Ren shifts aside to let her pass. She maneuvers her way around to the sink, nudging Gypsy a little without meaning to and quickly apologizing.

Glynda suddenly clears her throat. "Oh, Miss Nikos, excuse me, I didn't even realize you were here."

Pyrrha laughs in spite of herself, muscling through a forced smile as she turns around. "It's all right, I wasn't going out of my way to be seen." And it's the truth, she'd much rather crawl in a hole for a week or two at the moment. "It's good to see you're all right, professor."

"Please, you can call me Glynda." she waves a dismissive hand. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm up all the same." A pitiful chuckle. She starts fussing with her hands and her eyes drift away.

"Is there something...?" Glynda prompts gently. To her it looks like the young woman is fighting to say something, or, at the very least, fighting to find the words for it.

Finally Pyrrha shrugs; best to just put it out there as she knows it. "Billy says I'm the Spring Maiden now." and she doesn't know whether to be embarrassed or amused at how Glynda sputters, but she _does_ know that she hates the feeling of eyes on her and how the room is suddenly so quiet.

"H-how do," the Witch adjusts her glasses and clears her throat again, "what made them say that?"

"They said it's in my eyes but...I suppose you'd know best, wouldn't you?"

"Well, I," her mouth hangs for a moment, "not necessarily. But I can try." and she holds out her hand, expecting for Pyrrha to take it, which she does. Pyrrha slides her palm over Glynda's and meets the older woman's eyes, waiting.

Glynda doesn't notice it right away, maybe due to her threadbare focus as a result of shock and fatigue working in tandem. At first she doesn't see the glimmer of verdant fractals in Pyrrha's eyes, but the color is so much like Pyrra's own that it's easy to miss. What cements the notion is the threads of her magic seeking out strands so much like its own, the essence of a Springborn Witch sensing its Maiden cousin. Still, Glynda's brow furrows as she withdraws.

"But Miss Tag is still alive, isn't she?"

Pyrrha nods.

"That...this isn't making any sense."

"Wasn't it you who said magic can be a shit show sometimes?" Jaune adds casually.

"I...yes I did, and, apparently, that remains true." She leans back in her seat, mindful that she might tip over if she goes too far. "I...well, I'll admit I'm relieved. Mind you, Miss Nikos, I'm not at all pleased that this responsibility fell on you; you've given up enough to this mess we're in and I find it simply unfair that fate would deal this hand to you."

That's strangely comforting, Pyrrha finds.

"However, I confess that I'd rather it be you over a total stranger that is nowhere to be found. I still have a great deal of faith in your ability to see this through...that is, if you choose to do so. If I may be frank?"

"Go ahead." what was she supposed to do, say no?

"I wouldn't be at all disappointed if you chose to remain behind; you would be safe here and, should things go terribly wrong, you'd be out of harm's way and able to salvage what's left."

"Assuming I know how?" she looks back at the Witch with an unreadable expression. "What if none of you came back? What would you expect me to do?" and she waits, expecting Glynda of all people to have a well rounded answer almost immediately. Instead she watches her flounder, unable to come up with anything in response. "In any case it doesn't much matter, because I'm coming with you."

"Miss Nikos, no one's expecting you-,"

"I know. I'm still going."

"...Very well."

From his seat Jaune watched the entire thing, and he can't help but feel so proud of her; he can't ascertain a singular reason why, so he just feels all of it and smiles to himself. That is, until he notices his mother looking at him, smiling smugly with one brow lifted, looking like she knows something he's been trying to hide. He blushes and breaks away when she winks at him. His sisters must have noticed it too because they're suddenly elbowing and whispering to each other.

Glynda is in the middle of saying something else when she jumps with a most undignified noise at the buzzing in her back pocket. She grumbles as she retrieves it, swearing she's going to toss it through a window someday and scowling when Gypsy reminds her of all the broken ones throughout the house. But the expression dies when she sees the call is coming from Qrow. "Goodwitch speaking,"

The others all watch and wait, listening intently even though Glynda doesn't say much. For the most part she nods, acknowledging what she hears, until her eyes widen and she pales a little. Only a moment passes between receiving the call and Glynda hanging up again, but not before she assures Qrow that they will be in Vale as soon as possible.

"What's happened, Gee-gee?" Gypsy asks as she sees her sister rising from her seat and does the same. They all start getting up.

"Jabberwocky's awake."

 

 

Author's Note: Okay, so, from here on out is going to be the climax. I'm going to do like before and write the entire sequence and then post all the chapters once they're finished. After that, everything is going to be tied up with a few settle down chapters and finish with an epilogue. By then you all should get your sweet-sweet arkos, alongside a few things you might not be expecting, which I hope you'll mostly approve of. It may be a month or more before you see the next chapters, but here's hoping it'll be worth the wait. Love you all, and thanks for the unending support you've given me.

 


	58. Chapter Fifty-Seven

No one in Vale had any inkling how today was going to be different. It's Monday, the most mundane day of the week, what could possibly be different about it? People got up, got dressed, went to work and to school by car or bus or bike. To them it's just another day. But then just another day turned into a feeling that maybe it isn't just another day anymore -some folks would be sensitive enough to key into that much. Hunters in the capital would've become wise to it much sooner than the others, but at first the feeling was little more than something sinking in their gut. It didn't stop anyone from going about their lives, many of which doing so in the shadow of Beacon Tower.

For a time after it fell people would look up at it and fret, shaking their heads and wondering if things would ever be the same, though it was never for long because the distant shadow of that awful winged thing would encourage their eyes away.

However, around mid morning, all heads turned to look in the direction of the tower, and this was _before_ anyone heard the splitting, shrieking roar that tore into the city. Windows in close proximity of the tower rattled until they shattered, and everything else shook for several seconds before going still. Now, rest assured, every last hunter in the city was on high alert after that -including Ruby Rose who was ripped out of a drug assisted sleep by an incredible shock of pain in her side- but it isn't like they could do anything. Jabberwocky shattered its petrified shell and shook off the dust only to take to the air with one great push of its wings in the next instant. It lingers above the abandoned academy long enough to make a complete circle before heading off into the southeastern horizon, heeding the call of its Mother and stirring up any and all lesser Grimm in its wake.

 

_(--)_

With Nessa's help, Glynda was able to quickly haul up a selection of armor and weapons from the store room and lay them out in the main hall. All the while she reminds them that they need to move quickly.

"Most of this is older than anyone in this room, and while it may be...dated, it's well made. And I found more ammunition for you, Gypsy." and she passes a trio of lead loaded belts to her sister once she's shrugged them off her shoulder.

"Thanks much," though, at a glance she isn't certain if the rounds are the right fit. "Now I know you kids are thinking you're ten foot tall and bulletproof, but I want you to cover up. At least put something sturdy between the Grimm and your guts, yeah?"

It's strange wearing armor again, though Pyrrha feels like strange isn't strong enough a word. The last protection she remembers is crude and cruel bone plates that felt sewn to her skin, nothing like the dull brass chainmail shirt she ponders in her hands. Part of her is hesitant to put it on because her nerves remember too readily what that felt like. She eventually forces herself to pull it carefully over her head, mindful of the rings catching in her hair; there's comfort in how short the sleeves are, giving her greater range of movement, as well as the high collar that covered a spot on her chest that she was consciously worried about. With that as well fitted as it could be, she fishes through what's left for anything else she thinks she needs. Naturally she reaches for whatever gear reminds her of what she used to wear, and that speeds the process along. It still feels strange, but in a way still appropriate, like she belongs in it. Pyrrha then spies an iron shield, round and ordinary, propped against the side of trunk full of other armaments, and reflexively reaches for it with her Semblance; everyone watches as it rattles briefly and then jumps the short distance across the floor to the metal plate of the bracer on her arm. Only those with big enough ears catch Jessica's breathy whisper of "holy shit, that's really Pyrrha Nikos."

Nessa takes a lingering look at the younger huntress and smirks before going to her backpack that's piled together with the others in preparation to leave. It only takes a moment before she's walking back to them. "I guess this belongs to you then,"

Pyrrha turns her head, drawn by curiosity even though she isn't sure if Nessa is speaking to her, and her eyes fall on a hauntingly familiar ring of bronze cradled in her big, calloused hands.

"Jaune brought it to me all bent up and asked me to fix it. Here's hoping it still fits."

Everyone watches as Pyrrha looks at the coronet and then up at the Faunus and back again, hesitant. The fallen champion can't understand why she can't just pick it up -it  _is_ hers- but it feels too much like resigning herself to something awful, like putting a noose around her own neck. Then she remembers they don't have time for her to be timid, so she takes a deep breath and nods in thanks as she takes it in both hands. They're all still watching as she slips it on, adjusting it slightly until it rests in its usual place; they all look at her with hope and anxiety, though her team is decidedly more hopeful.

"Ah, are we leaving soon?"

Glynda turns to her mother's voice. "Yes we," her expression stretches, "Mother, why on earth did you bring  _that_ ?"

Maab, now bedecked in an ancient style of Mistrali armor, puts her fists insistently on her hips. "I need it." she declares, knowing that her now youngest daughter is referring to the relatively giant, silver-bladed scythe strapped to her back. She has Thorn as well, tucked away in her belt.

"But it's three times bigger than you!"

"A perfect fit for all the Grimm I mean to kill." she counters. "At least I've been led to assume there will be Grimm,"

"Oh you bet," Gypsy chuckles, "now that Jabberwocky is kicking around again."

Maab's brows lift sharply, appearing more intrigued than concerned. "Is that so? Then I say I couldn't be better prepared. Do we have anything resembling a plan?"

"First thing is to get there as soon as possible and link up with Qrow and Team RWBY." Glynda continues. "Specialist Holiday took the liberty of reporting to General Ironwood earlier this morning, so he's aware of the situation as it is now and is already dispatching all available support from the outposts throughout Vale. The Royal Council is supposedly rallying hunters from all over as well, but you know how bureaucrats drag their feet."

Maab nods once, amused. "I do indeed. How soon can we expect reinforcements?"

"With luck, as little as a half hour."

"But that's also plenty of time for the Fall Maiden to move on us."

"More than enough, if I were being realistic. Still, if we can get airborne now, we can reach Beacon in half that time. From there, defending the tower is top priority."

"What's so special about the tower?"

"Zerline's mirror."

Maab's glasses almost fall off her face. "Goodness." Then one vulpine ear cocks to the side. "Are we certain that-,"

"Salem told me." and Glynda's tone telegraphs very clearly her desire to change the subject. "Could you help us finish up here so we can get going?"

"Of course."

Jaune is helping Jessica strap up a steel breastplate, but his hands move without his eyes as he can't stop watching Pyrrha. A sort of chill runs through him when he sees her pick up a sword -one only faintly resembling Akouo- like seeing a ghost even though he knows damn good and well she isn't one. But that awe shifts into an acute confusion; instead of letting the sword and shield rest on her back as he expects, Pyrrha tries to sheath the blade in the space between the shield and her arm -something he swears he's seen before but certainly not from her.

And the look on Pyrrha's face suggests she's feeling something similar. She corrects herself, but is still visibly puzzled.

 

_(--)_

"I've got you, princess," Yang soothes softly, "I know it hurts."

Weiss shakes in Yang's embrace, her face hidden and her hands clawing into the brawler's clothes. Her body jolts with powerful sobs that coincide with a pained scream that comes through the closed door of Ruby's room. The Winter Maiden's Guardian is in agony and it's radiating through their link, feeling like something is raking over Weiss' brain with white hot steel. When the pain finally passes several minutes later she feels faint, all her weight dropping against Yang who sees fit to just sweep her up and hold her. Tai sees this and stands up, offering her the only chair in the hallway.

Blake paces like a caged panther, anxious and with her ears back. Too much is happening at once and she isn't sure what she should be focusing on first: the dragon, her team, or Qrow who hasn't returned from an impromptu call from General Ironwood. He had left just before the city shook with Jabberwocky's cry, and the Summer Maiden feels as though it's just been too damn long. That, coupled with the faint chiming of Yang's own anxiety ringing through her, is just shy of too much. She has to do something or she might burst.

No sooner than the initial thought of the grizzled hunter left her mind did he round the corner at the far end of the corridor, his strides long and purposeful. Confusion flickers across his unshaven face when he sees them all there, knowing they hadn't been there when he left. Out of some old reflex he looks at Tai who is thankfully quick in explaining what happened while he was absent. For a moment he doesn't say anything, only listens, and his reaction to what he hears manifests on his face; worry and a certain dread.

"When I got off the phone with Jimmy, almost immediately I called Glynda, because some of the stuff he was telling me I just didn't want to believe." Qrow explains as he shakes his head. "Turns out last night went real bad for Goodwitch and the others."

"Billy called me and Weiss about a half hour ago, told us something happened to Tag." Yang doesn't want to go too far into details because she's still mad about it.

"Cinder raided the Hollow last night with her Guardians; she took back her focus, killed Salem and took her magic,  _and_ made off with Ozpin's cane to boot. What happened to Tag is the least of our worries."

The brawler's face twists up. "Are you kidding me?"

"Pyrrha has Tag's powers, so we've still got Spring on our side." he intercedes, and watches as his niece's face twists up into something mean. "Look, I know what you're really worried about, and I'm telling you that now isn't the time. Glynda thinks there's a good chance that flying lizard is on its way to retrieve Cinder and take her to Beacon Tower -we have to get there before she does."

"We're not going to be able to fend off Jabberwocky by ourselves." Blake says.

"We won't have to. Ironwood and the Royal Council are sending help our way, and Glynda is supposed to be joining up with us any minute, so our chances are fair at the very least. But we have to go  _now_ ."

Weiss straightens in Yang's lap, nodding to her teammate to assure her she's okay before standing up on her own. Yang keeps her hands close, just in case she's not as stable as she thinks. "What about Ruby?"

"I bet that thing waking up has something to do with it." Qrow says with a flat certainty. "If Cinder has Salem's magic, who knows how far it could stretch with the powers of a Maiden behind it." But the question also forces him to fully accept the fact of that thing inside Ruby being of the Grimm, and that it might still kill her. "The sooner we stop this, the better."

The three young huntresses look at each other, nodding in turn.

"Tai," Qrow looks at his longtime friend who stops him with a raised hand.

"I know." he smiles. "I'll be here for Ruby, you guys go save the world."

Qrow accepts it, nodding, and allows them to linger just long enough for Yang to hug her father and remind him that she loves him.

 

_(--)_

Emerald steps out into the light, Barren squinting in displeasure as she sees the world through the eyes of her host. Hideous, she thinks, and a part of the Grimm almost misses her prison within the mirror. Her head tips back, gaze rising and settling on the steadily growing black dot on the horizon, mentally smirking and allowing the notion to manifest on Emerald's lips. Then she turns, facing the Maiden and her Guardian who stand behind her, though her regards are for Manticore that casually plods around them to her side.

The Progenitor sits at its Mother's feet, morbidly statuesque in its perfect posture, and rumbles low in its belly as its bony tails lazily moves back and forth. With a sort of alien, unfeeling love, Emerald strokes her hands through Manticore's mane with one hand, the other smoothing over the skull until the jaw parts to reveal the Grimm's one large, spherical eye.

"My youngest," Barren sighs through her host, "but not for much longer. Soon I will have another, and she will need a proper home."

Manticore rumbles louder, its brimstone iris blooming with infernal light and interest.

"Now rouse your pride, more will be here soon and together you will raze Vale to the ground."

Cinder and Neo watch silently as Manticore stands up again, taking several large steps before its incredible jaw opens up in its chest and out rips a shattering roar. The Fall Maiden feels the Witch in her weakly stirring -it's starting to feel more like herself and less like an  _other_ \- and the magic is intrigued by the sudden, impossible flux of dark energy around her. Then her attention is drawn away from herself and back to the Progenitor as it starts making this awful gagging noise, heaving heavily until a sticky black hunk of sludge splatters on the ground. 

The mass writhes and splits, each portion taking shape. Manticore spits up two more such clots of equal size, the lot of them separating into more than a dozen smaller fractions that eventually coalesce into an actual pride of Grimm lionesses. Once they are all whole and stable, covered in rows of bone plates with yellow eyes all aglow, Manticore takes off running and they follow suit as one.

Cinder takes a collection of steps to the edge of the short hill the hideaway is perched on, looking down into the forest and feeling a shiver run up her back as a host of other lesser Grimm eventually fall in line behind Manticore's pride; Beowolves, Ursa, and judging by the punctuated shudders beneath her feet, there are Goliaths on the way. She mentally flinches, she had never thought it would be like this. She expected the fall of Vale -she had been waiting for that delicious moment since she cast Pyrrha to the wind- and she expected to take over and eventually bend every kingdom to the same fate. She hadn't counted on Barren wanting to wholly decimate  _everything_ , which is the only outcome when intentionally calling on a force this size.

Barren doesn't want to rule the world, she wants to destroy it.

_Let her try._ Cinder dares to herself.  _Let her try._

Still more Grimm are charging through the woods, and soaring overhead now, when Jabberwocky makes its way to the ground. Almost immediately it drops its head, squatting as low as it can and extending its wings to allow Emerald to easily climb onto its back. Cinder and Neo are quick to follow, not entirely confident that it wouldn't take off without them.

Once airborne again, Jabberwocky turns back towards Vale as Cinder points the way. Again through Emerald's eyes the Mother of Grimm eyes the city's silhouette with fiery contempt, all the fuel she needs to call out to her other children. A few of them are close enough to hear -the eldest obnoxiously responds with  _go fuck yourself_ , which she doesn't understand at first but is able to interpret through her host- but a few is all she needs. A few would be enough to breach the city and reach the mirror, after that she would have  _all_ of them and  _more_ .

 

_(--)_

Pyrrha's terrified and knows she isn't hiding it well, doubly so because she isn't trying to conceal it as well as she could. Part of her is telling her to allow herself the vulnerability, to let herself feel again because she needs to, but the huntress in her is trying and failing to squash it down because it could get her killed. The harness across her chest feels too tight and she knows her knuckles are white as she clutches the straps even though her eyes are shut. Her heart hums anxiously behind her ribs and she can feel sweat forming on the back of her neck. She's so afraid; the emotion she had spent years learning to control is now running rampant, threatening to shatter her already frail resolve to see this through. The airship shudders from turbulence and she almost jumps out of her skin.

"Hey," Jaune tries to speak softly as not to make things worse, but it's hard to do over the rumble of the ship. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry," she laughs, shaky and panting, "I'm scared."

"It's all right, that's normal, I'm scared too." he assures her, his hand chancing to rest on her thigh. He waits to see if she'll flinch away, relieved when she doesn't. "You still want to do this? You can say no,"

She only nods, knowing if she spoke the answer would be different.

"Would you let Ren help you calm down?"

And again she nods before she lets her mouth get away from her. It takes conscious effort to lift her head and unhook one of her hands from its grip on the harness, catching Ren's gaze and reaching out to him. He understands without explanation, nodding once and taking Pyrrha's hand. She feels his Semblance surge into her, exhaling as the dead, anxious heat in her body ebbs and her heart settles steadily. After a moment she can breathe normally again and her body loosens up; the sensations are reminiscent of when Manticore still inhabited her body, a sort of emptiness, and thankfully she can't feel that particular unease at the moment.

"Thank you." she says neutrally, taking another deep breath as the last of the tension leaves her. She'll hold her teammate's hand a moment longer, but just a moment.

All heads are up and alert as Glynda comes striding in, watching her make her way steadily to the rear of the staging bay to take hold of the short rail beside the hatch. Before anyone can ask what's going on, Daisy's voice cracks over the intercom, requesting that Glynda open the door. The world outside is still moving though slowing down as the ship coasts into a stable hover above a stretch of open rooftop. Glynda leans partway out of the opening, still holding the rail so she can reach the first of several outstretched hands of the hunters waiting there. Weiss is pulled aboard first, quickly followed by Blake and Yang, and lastly comes Qrow, giving Glynda leave to shut the door just as the ship pitches and starts off again.

Daisy makes another announcement.  _"ETA to Beacon Tower is five minutes."_

The young huntresses are quick to find a seat and strap themselves in, offering sparse greetings to anyone that acknowledges them. Qrow seems content to just hang on to something.

"You look like shit, Goodwitch."

"I dare say I'm still a sight better than you." she bites back. "How's the response from the Council coming along?"

"Some Atlesian ships are already touching down and the Council has temporary headquarters set up as close to Beacon as they safely can. The orders have gone out for civilians to stay put and hunker down, so that should keep casualties to a minimum for the time being."

"Good. I heard from Specialist Holiday that there are already reports of massive Grimm sightings on the outskirts of the city, and they're advancing quickly."

"Any sign of Jabberwocky yet?"

"Oh yes."

Qrow nods with a quiet shrug.

"I noticed Miss Rose is absent."

"Yeah," his tone softens, goes quiet. "She got worse, and it happened just like that. It  _has_ to be Barren."

"That's what I'm afraid of." the Witch's brow furrows. "What if she's already escaped the mirror?"

"That's not possible."

"Yes it is, it was trying to find Salem's focus so it could do just that. What if Barren found another host?"

He shakes his head, partly frustrated and partly speechless. Gods above, how he prays she's wrong. "If that's the case I just hope it isn't Cinder."

Glynda makes a face, like her heart just fell into her boots.

"So is there a plan yet?"

"You sound like my mother," she groans to herself.

"Is Maab here?"

"Yes to both questions. We're headed right for Beacon Tower, and from there we have two options: we need to get the power back on, or we need to stop the mechanism that opens the vault in Jarreth's office."

"What does the power have to do with it? Because if it's super important, I have some bad news,"

"If it's as bad as you're making it sound, it doesn't matter. So?"

"The Council never saw fit to repair the power grid because they couldn't decide whether or not Beacon would reopen, so the entirety of the academy has been dark since Cinder's attack."

" _Gods damn it_ ," Glynda growls sharply, but then recovers. "It'll be all right, we're not hopeless." She's trying to convince herself, though it isn't working very well.

"Just at a serious disadvantage, huh?" at least that's what it sounds like to him.

"Salem said Ozpin built Beacon around the mirror. Now, I don't know how and she couldn't explain it to me either, but he'd somehow managed to arrange the grid to produce energy similar to a ley line convergence."

Qrow's eyes widen. "How come you never noticed  _that_ ?"

"Because it wasn't a perfect replica, it was enough to conceal the mirror's presence," just like it had concealed Nora's magic from her, "but Salem wasn't certain if it disabled it at all."

"But I guess it doesn't matter at this point, like you said."

"Indeed." she exhales.

"So what about plan B?"

"My niece, Trixie, her Semblance holds objects she touches in stasis, it might give us time enough to stop Barren."

_"All hands prep for deployment, repeat, all hands prep for deployment."_

Qrow scowls, seemingly ignoring Specialist Holiday's announcement though he heard it just fine. "And how the hell are we supposed to do that?"

Glynda looks at him, a thin veil of determination hiding her uncertainty. "By any means necessary." It's the only option, their only hope.

Because if they couldn't stop it here, there would be no stopping it at all.

 

_(--)_

They heard their Mother's call and came down from the snow capped mountains that overshadowed Beacon, twin Progenitors that were birthed when one larger Grimm physically ripped itself in two. That unnamed horror felt nothing but rage and hate, even towards itself to the point where it couldn't stand to be whole; those two emotions split also, each half the manifestation of one of them. Rage had become a towering taurian thing, horned and hoofed with a blind, albino serpent for a tail and a nest of smaller scarlet ones obscuring all of its face save the glowing embers of its eyes. Unlike its kin, it rarely birthed or rallied lesser Grimm because it enjoyed the thrill of destruction too much to share it.

The other twin is a strange girth of a great ape's torso and head, but with the hooking horns of some goat and hooves to match. It speeds down the mountainside on all fours, tree trunk arms pumping as hard as its legs. Its palms are streaked with scarlet that drips like blood constantly, leaving tracks in the once immaculate snow, and at its will lesser Grimm begin to emerge -satyr like creatures that are only a fraction of the size of the Progenitor and each with a different yet equally grotesque face twisted into the bone masks they wear. Should this acrid warpaint touch the skin of a living thing, it would fly into a blind rage, decimating everything in its path until itself was destroyed.

The twins meet at the roots of the mountain, sparing only a second to regard each other with bellows of contempt before continuing on their way; even at this distance they can feel the fringes of the terror and despair of the people in Vale, and it whets their appetite. But the city isn't their intended target -Beacon is so much closer, and their Mother is demanding they go there and prepare the way for the others.

\---

To the far south, the dense canopy of an old growth forest shakes and jolts as if stirred by an errant squall. Nevermore of every size scatter skyward with the other native birds, not just in response to Barren but to make room for the Old One that dwells in the darkness beneath the branches. Normally it wouldn't dream of emerging during the day, but this is a most special occasion. Some trees are uprooted, others broken at half mast as a pair of incredible, leathery wings push a massive body upward from beneath them. The prodigious chiropteran Grimm flaps its wings in quick succession to rise over the forest, its furred hide touched by sunlight for the first time in centuries, revealing the flawless coloration of mixed blood and shadows. Though it's completely blinded by a tusked bone mask it knows where to go, its huge ears picking up even the vibrations of Barren's psychic influence. It answers her call just like all the others, and turns towards Vale.

\---

Jabberwocky soars almost leisurely over the city, the dragon's relaxed pace allowing Barren to watch as her children wreak havoc below. They came from the south, putting the Agricultural and Residential districts between them and Beacon; Barren almost laughs at how easy it had been for just Manticore and its pride to roll through the collection of farms and mills, leaving much of it ablaze. The huge waves of Grimm that came after almost felt unnecessary. However, by the time her forces reached the Industrial District, defenses had been raised and the first pockets of resistance began pushing back. Barren gave the order for the Progenitors to push on at all cost, allowing the lesser Grimm to deal with the humans and their sorry attempt at survival.

Now this close to the tower, Barren can feel the pull of the mirror, an actual, physical attraction like a weak magnet that tugs on the frame of her host. It knows she's free and wants to pull her back into the darkness, stirring a dull anxiety, but she's able to swallow it down because it's only temporary. Once she reaches the mirror and corrupts it, the hunger will cease, and she won't need a frail human shell to survive in this world anymore.

Cinder feels anxiety too, a simmering discomfort as she watches the mayhem unfolding from the smoke and fire below. She refuses to regret that it came to this, she's much too proud, but there is no shame in admitting she would have done differently if there had been a choice.

 

_(--)_

It's the seconds before the guillotine falls, before the gallows opens up to swallow you; they can't see what's coming, but they can each sense it and know it's on the way. And the quiet desolation of the once bustling academy grounds, surrounded by monolithic remains, only serves to make it worse.

Daisy had dropped the lot of them in the middle of the complex, yards away from the school, and they all jumped off the ship into a full sprint, weapons at the ready to cross the fractured flagstones as quickly as possible. They unconsciously splinter off into teams; Team JNPR never really separated in the first place, Qrow will fill the vacancy in Team RWBY, Billy keeps close to Gypsy as they are still hexed, and the Fallborn Witch stays with her mother and sister. The Arc sisters stick to each other like glue, which is only natural because they're all terrified.

When they reach the front entrance to the academy they all group up, heads swiveling briefly to make sure nothing has joined them on the grounds just yet, and Maab proceeds to mete out tasks for each group -out of the lot she's the most experienced, so they bend readily to her guidance. The gist of her plan is to keep the vault atop the tower sealed as long as possible, and that meant protecting Trixie, a job handed over to her other sisters and Team JNPR. Not only did this serve to offer a bit of comfort to the young Witches, but also kept the most inexperienced of them all out of direct combat -maybe not indefinitely, but for a while. Meanwhile the rest of them would push back any and all Grimm that came onto the grounds, holding the line until more help could arrive and they could find an opportunity to stop Barren.

"You mind your brother in there, girls," Gypsy eyes each of her daughters, "you lot might be older, but he's the huntsman in the family, understand?"

"Yes, momma." they all say in unison, even Jaune.

Gypsy has more to say,  _so much_ more, but they don't have time. She spares a moment to tell them she loves them before sending them on their way. Nessa has to kick the door in, and then the eight of them disappear into the darkness of the abandoned building.

The rest of them spread out, ready and waiting, anxious. They can see columns of smoke over Vale from here, smoke and Nevermore and...gods above is that Jabberwocky? Already? Maab is likely the only one pleased by the resounding shriek that cuts the sky overhead, a grin stretching her features as she reaches for the scythe on her back. But she stops suddenly, her ears cocking to the side and her head following their direction. Then both ears snap back and her smirk dies as she arms herself, shouting "On our left!"

The Grimm twins have arrived and are ripping their way across the amphitheater with their now massive entourage trailing behind them.

 

_\---_

There is a haunting sense of deja vu hidden somewhere in the almost deafening echo of their footsteps through the empty halls. Pyrrha is mentally crossing off a list of things she remembers though her gaze is fixed resolutely ahead. She remembers these rooms, the smell of the place, the way the daylight comes through windows and hurls shadows and bars of sunshine across the floors, and triggered memories flash through her mind. Thankfully Ren's Semblance still has a solid hold on her, otherwise she might not have been able to function; every instinct would be screaming at her to turn back, telling her that death lives here and she has to run away, and there is no way she could promise she wouldn't heed them. And she knows that Jaune tosses a concerned glance her way from time to time, but she can't let herself catch it on the risk of faltering.

Trixie tells them she needs to get as close to the tower as possible, if not actually inside of it. "The less ground my Semblance has to cover, the better it's going to work."

"We can get you inside." Jaune says.

"I can't believe this." Alice pants, shaking her head as she pushes herself along. "Yesterday I was making a dress -a _dress_ ; I'm a seamstress, not a hunter!"

"We may not be hunters, but we _are_ Witches, and this is what Witches are supposed to do." Jessica assures her sister as she tucks her glasses away, realizing she likely won't be doing much reading today.

A few minutes of steady progress brings the eight of them to the far side of the school, where they ease to a stop. Looking through the shattered windows the young hunters survey the sprawling pavement between them and the tower. At a glance the coast is clear, but all of them have the sinking suspicion that it will change the moment they step outside. That's why Team JNPR elects to go first, and then wave the others on once they know it's safe. They can hear the commotion of combat carrying from the far side of the school behind them, but have yet to see any sign of Grimm here.

That is, until a great winged shadow soars overhead, blocking out the sun for a second and bringing a gust of cold wind with it.

"Don't look up," Jaune shouts as they make a break for it, "don't look up, just keep going! We're almost there!"

They all scramble inside, most of them hoping against hope they weren't seen.

"Find some cover for Trixie to get behind." and there's plenty of debris lying around to facilitate that. "But don't go crazy with it, because we still want to be able to reach her easily if things go bad." He's almost surprised that they listen.

\---

The great Grimm circles the tower once, slowing itself down enough to land, its massive claws hooking to the ledge at the top of the tower before crawling onto solid ground. Jabberwocky grovels, its chin flat to the floor as Barren slides down its neck to dismount. Cinder and Neo follow without delay, walking just behind as Emerald's body moves to the middle of the floor, stepping gingerly over debris and twisted iron cogs. She stops, looking one way and then another, before slowly turning on her heel to look at Cinder. "Well?"

The Fall Maiden furrows her brow, at first unable to speak for a reason she can't define. Cinder searches her thoughts, feelings, trying to decipher herself from what remains of Salem in hopes of learning the location of the vault's lock. It takes a moment, but she'll eventually nod, taking the cane in hand as she starts forward. She lingers briefly in the center of the fractured floor, realizing she's mistaken and moves on. Cinder stops again where she has a feeling that Ozpin's desk used to sit. She'll ponder the cane, thinking, and then looks down at the floor to make note of the fine coat of dust and ash under her boots. One sweep of her foot pushes it aside, revealing the small circular recess in the floor. With little delay she pushes the end of the cane into place, a loud, metallic lurch shaking up from below only a second later. It sounds like clockwork, countless cogs and wheels screeching into motion for possibly the first time as the mechanism steadily comes undone. Thin seams open up in the middle of the floor, a black cross that begins to yawn open.

Then everything suddenly stills and goes quiet.

Emerald's eyes search the ground and then flash bloody red when they suddenly jump to Cinder. "What is this?" she hisses through closed teeth.

She has no answer.

"Wait." and it sounds like the possessed thief is about to correct herself. Tearing her gaze away she strides quickly towards the edge of the Tower, leaning only a little to look over the side and down. Her irises glow again, this time in a sustained and seething display as her host's jaw tightens further. " _Witches_." Barren can feel them now as well, and her disgust surges.

Cinder and Neo look at each other, the Guardian looking to raise her hand in an attempt to sign only to be stopped as Emerald whips back around.

"Get rid of them." she commands, eyes fixed hard on Cinder.

"With pleasure." though it's only a half truth; she's more than happy raise hell, but she's not a fan of being told what to do. Still, she has an illusion to sell, and that meant playing along for now. Cinder gestures to Neo, beckoning the changeling to her side as she turns to face the tower's edge. She's quick to respond as she's grown quite uncomfortable standing so close to Jabberwocky.

"Remember the promise I made you?" Cinder asks, one brow raised and a smirk tugging her lips.

Her Guardian's expression is quizzical. Clearly she can't recall.

"I said you could do as you please." and Cinder smiles fully at the glint of excitement she receives. "Go have some fun, whatever you want." She watches Neo make several distinct signs. "I said _whatever you want_. Now go on, all I ask is that you make sure I'm not interrupted." Because she could handle a few Witches, sure enough, so long as they didn't receive any aid.

Neo just nods with obvious enthusiasm before disappearing in a shimmer of silvery light.

 

 

Author's Note: Not much to say about this chapter. If it was at all confusing with the scene changes I apologize, I tried to make the changes as visible as possible. Next chapter is coming right up, and our kids are about to see a lot of problems.

 


	59. Chapter Fifty-Eight

Barren still watches as her plan unfolds, seeming to have forgotten the Witches that are close enough to make her host's skin crawl and the Maiden she sent after them. One page at a time she can see her desires coming to fruition, but part of her is growing impatient. The twins are here and Jabberwocky is waiting for her command, yet she simply won't be satisfied until the others arrive. She eyes the skyline of Vale and flexes the darkness in her, unleashing a powerful, rippling wave of energy that will reach for miles and tighten the leash on the others, beckoning them to come at all haste.

\---

Though they all felt it, Pyrrha is the only one who knows what it is, the only one who isn't visibly worried or confused by the heavy flux of energy that just washed over them. Just inside the tower she looks back out into the plaza through the shattered doorway, a part of her knowing what's coming. Jaune calls her name and she looks at him, seeing his questioning expression and answers what he must surely be thinking. "She's calling them." she says, sounding hauntingly calm.

"You mean...you know what, never mind, don't tell me." because he doesn't need to hear it and he doesn't want his sisters to hear it either on the off chance it'll make them panic. Instead he just focuses on them, watching as three of them return to the main chamber of the ground floor. "Jess, you okay?"

"No," but she smiles even though she shakes her head. Her hands are wringing in her apron and her ears are back. "I-I know I was talking tall earlier, but I don't belong here either. I mean, like Alice said, she's a seamstress. _I'm_ just a gay nerd," she grabs the large knife at her hip, " _this_ isn't a charcoal pencil! Trixie and Nessa...well, they love to beat the shit out of each other, but that doesn't mean we can kill Grimm!"

"Good to know,"

All heads turn at the unfamiliar voice, seeing the unfamiliar silhouette in the doorway, and all bodies tense at the peculiar yet unforgettable whistle of an arrow in flight. Unhindered by natural, emotional responses, Pyrrha immediately reacts by raising her shield and stepping into the line of fire. The glass missile crashes against solid steel and scatters to the floor, and she peers over the lip of the shield into burning amber eyes she'll never forget.

"Look at this," Cinder grins, taking a relaxed step forward as she separates her bow into twin scimitars. "A covey of frightened rabbits and a few children. And  _you_ ," Cinder's gaze falls on Pyrrha, her grin cutting a bit wider. "Finally got the other leg out of the grave, Nikos?"

Pyrrha doesn't move, doesn't answer, just glares right back with a quiet intensity.

"All that effort just so I can put you-," The Fall Maiden pauses, seeing something in the other woman's eyes she hadn't noticed just seconds ago; fractals of rich, brilliant color that are too easily hidden flicker in her eyes. How had she not sensed it before? How could she not sense it  _now_ that they were standing in the same room? She sees the Spring Maiden, but only sees. But her confusion is dismantled by the hard pulse of her focus against her chest, her gaze flitting to the too sudden movement that she's just able to react to.

Nora resolutely stepped around Jaune with Magnhild at the ready, and without warning pulled the trigger twice. Hitting Cinder's aura, the rounds burst into clouds of smoke that linger in the still air long enough for Magnhild to become a hammer, and for her wielder to rush in close enough to swing. The Fall Maiden flies back through the doorway she had entered from, bouncing on the flagstones outside until she puts her feet to the ground to stop herself. The hammer-wielding huntress had followed, sprinting towards her with a twisted expression of determined fury.

Ren and Pyrrha follow suit, running outside. Jaune takes a second to tell his sisters to stay put unless absolutely necessary.

Cinder catches the first downward swing of Magnhild with her blades crossed over her head. The impact drops her to her knees, but she's quick to roll backwards as the hammer comes down again and crushes the pavement instead of her skull. She pushes off with a burst of aura, launching herself to catch Nora about the waist and tear her to the ground. This earns her a fist to the jaw and a hail of bullets from Stormflower that she twists away from, though her aura takes a beating.

Once back on her feet, Nora goes after her again. She has tunnel vision; Cinder is the only thing she can see and she's all that matters and that's how it's going to be until she yields or dies. And while Nora would never consider herself a particularly violent person, she hopes against hope that Cinder won't yield. When Cinder gets out of her hammer's reach, she'll collapse the weapon back into a gun and fire a volley of three shots, making her back that much further away, and right into Jaune and Pyrrha's path as they come at her from either side. They charge in, shields forward with the intent to crush Cinder between them, but Cinder plants her feet and bolsters her aura in one hard mental flex, and that allows her to stop them in their tracks with her hands alone. However they keep pressing, both young hunters taking one big step forward, making Cinder's arms bend at the elbow without fully yielding. The Fall Maiden's face is tight with strain, but her eyes widen when she can see the other two heading right for her.

Her reaction is primal, instinctive, and the flare of anger she feels in her chest is magnified by her focus as it manifests in a churning hemisphere of spiraling flames.

They all jump back, and Pyrrha's the one who reacts as her eyes flash brightly, the magic in her stirring to attention. Without conscious thought she responds, the green light in her eyes appearing around one hand to draw moisture out of the air by the gallons. Again, without a thought, Pyrrha unleashes a roaring torrent against Cinder, snuffing the flames with a resounding hiss and knocking the Fall Maiden to the ground. She's quick to get up, and looks to be going on the offensive again with savage hate in her eyes, but then she stops when she hears the distinct pop of electricity. Turning her head she's quick to discern the almost malicious glee on Nora's face alongside the bright turquoise light of crackling magic in her hand. Then she's all too aware of the fact that she's sopping wet.

 

_(--)_

Taiyang shuffles back and forth at the foot of his daughter's hospital bed, arms crossed with his thumbnail between his teeth. Sirens are blaring outside and he can hear the commotion of Grimm and scrambling people, and the hospital went into total lock down a few minutes ago, but it barely phases him; these are things he's somewhat used to.

Ruby is finally quiet and in a fragile sleep, but she still looks so sick; her breathing is quick and shallow, and sweat glistens across her pale skin -much more pale than yesterday. He can't stand to keep his eyes off of her for more than a few seconds, fear for her life gnawing at the back of his brain because he can't help but think about everyone else he's lost. He's praying he won't have to bury what's left of his family after today. His anxiety overwhelms him and he ducks into the nearest bathroom to throw up, the purging so hard on him that he sits on the floor a moment to recover.

Just when he feels collected and stable enough to walk, he's jolted back to his backside by a percussive force against his chest that seemed to come out of nowhere. It left him feeling cold, almost sick again, but both of those sensations disappear when he hears Ruby screaming again. No parent should ever have to hear their children make such an awful, pain choked noise. He half crawls across the floor until he's back on his feet, running back into the room to see Ruby writhing in bed, her body twisted up in a most inhuman manner. For a moment he's frozen there, helpless and scared out of his mind as he watches her suffer. When his senses finally right themselves again he jumps out into the hallway and shouts down the nearest doctor he sees.

The pain in Ruby's side is sharp and relentless, the wound has become solidly black again and pulsates. Venous threads of darkness spread outward from the core of it, forking under her skin and traveling up along her side; whatever bits of the Grimm remained have suddenly come alive to the call of its other half. The darkness branches out, inching down one arm and up the side of her neck and into her face. The white of one eye clouds over, no longer reflecting light, and her entire arm goes black as claws sprout from the respective hand. There's the dull crack of bones and a shock of pain, making Ruby jerk as the noise rings through her head.

Taiyang comes back into the room, doctor in tow, and sees Ruby perched on all fours on the bed, snarling as she rips the tubes out of her arm, then she starts clawing at herself like she's trying to tear free of her own skin. He calls to her but she doesn't respond, not at all in the way he expects. She doesn't even look at him as her hooked fingers rake her scalp just before she rips her way through the window with a burst of air and withered osiria.

He runs to the window, sticking his entire upper body out in spite of his instincts telling him not to -too easy to get your head taken off by a Nevermore doing this. But he doesn't care, he needs to know where she's going. After a tense moment he spots her, a blur of crimson and black that flickers across the rooftops, and then he jumps too.

 

_(--)_

The edge of Myrtenaster glances off the Beawolf's bone plating, missing the space between its eyes as Weiss flinches at the horrible stabbing sensation in the back of her head. She's able to recover quickly enough to avoid being flayed alive, twisting away before pushing back in and hitting her intended target. The Grimm slumped over and dissolved, leaving a jet smear on the flagstones. Weiss has a too brief moment to consider the pain and where it came from, and feels a streak of worry shoot up her back; it felt like whatever is going on with Ruby had suddenly gotten bad again. But, as before, there's nothing she can do.

"Hey, you okay, princess?"

Why she expected Yang was anyone's guess, but she doesn't let the surprise show when she sees Qrow. "I'm fine."

"I saw you stumble and thought that thing might have gotten you. You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes." she confirms.

"Good, now let's go. I think Glynda's got one of the big ones cornered, and if we want to make any headway, we have to take it out. At the very least we can give her the time she needs to get it done."

"Right." a curt nod, and the two press on.

\---

The Grimm twins had split up to quickly swamp the grounds with lesser Grimm and with a hope of separating the hunters. In a way both plans worked; a majority of them were ganging up on the satyr -it seemed the more timid of the two, if that's possible- mindful of its hands slinging crimson seepage everywhere because they saw what it had done to the lesser Grimm it touched. Gypsy did her best to keep the smaller ones back, her Semblance best suited for crowd control, a charge which became much easier once Qrow and Weiss joined the fray, and that left Maab, Billy, and Glynda facing down the Old One.

As top heavy as it is, the Progenitor is surprisingly mobile, its powerful legs able to push it considerable distances in a single exertion. It leaves behind heavy hand prints, more of its impish offspring climbing out of them and making an already big problem bigger. Maab stays close with precise bursts of aura, finding the opportunity and swinging the scythe with everything she has behind it. It hits, but the impact vibrates back into her arms with a crackling pain; the blade hacks against the Grimm's horns, unable to cut through, but she doesn't back down. With the blade still laced around its horns she perches on its furry back, pulling, yanking its head back and all but controlling its movements. It thrashes and wildly swings its arms, its long, curled fingernails scraping the Witch's armor and pulling forth a veil of sparks. Maab adjusts her stance just so to keep from stepping in a streak of sticky redness. "Come on now, I don't know how long I can hold it!" she shouts, glad that the others are so quick to react.

Now unbound from her focus, Glynda is able to do so much more with her magic, and she readily draws from the wellspring of energy nestled beneath her Semblance to let it gather in her hands as brilliant, violet light. It stretches and writhes until she throws both hands forwards, the energy solidifying as it lassos one of the Progenitor's ankles and one of its wrists. Then she uses a surge of aura to keep herself grounded against the awesome force of the two pulling against one another. She can't tear it to the ground, but she does well enough at keeping it in place while Billy comes in from the other side.

The Progenitor sees the Faunus and stands up, thinking its impressive stature would keep them back and being gravely mistaken. Billy jumps, axes falling once they're close close enough to land soundly in the meat of the Grimm's thigh. It's barely enough to break the skin, but its hide is thick enough for the weapon to anchor into. Careful to avoid the monster's other arm as it swipes at them, Billy steadily climbs up its body to its head. With one ax hooking the thick line of its collarbone, Billy swings the other from as far back as they can, the first in a series of jarring blows to the neck. It howls and reels in pain when the stone weapon finally breaches its flesh, and black muck begins spitting up from the ragged wound.

Billy calls up to Maab, alerting her to their intentions before pulling themselves up and springing off the Old One's chest. Once the two Faunus have eyes on each other there's a bright silver flash as the two switch places. Billy pulls back hard on the Grimm's horns, exposing the wounded throat, and Maab materializes in the air, scythe spinning like a saw blade. The hooked edge finds the opening and pulls it wide open, a seamless vivisection that exposes the total darkness and rot inside of the creature. It howls, more black bile spilling through its jaws and down its open neck. Now Glynda rips it down to the flagstones, her magic releasing its now still limbs when its form begins to collapse.

"Now what do we do with it? I remember hearing there's no way to completely get rid of them." Billy says, wiping sweat and slime from their face.

"Raven could have banished them, but we don't have that luxury." Glynda pants.

"No, dear, but we have  _you_ ." Maab points out. "You're unbound now."

"I'm aware, but what does that have to do with this?"

" _Think_ ; your Semblance, it returns things to their original state, yes?" she waits for her daughter to answer with a nod. "That means so much more now, and I wish I had the time to fully explain, but,"

"Are you saying I could send this back to Barren?"

"It's a possibility."

"Wouldn't that be  _bad_ ?" Billy asks.

"It's better than letting it lie here to just get up again."

"She could send it back!" Glynda counters.

"Maybe so,  _but that will take time_ , and time is something we desperately need! Let her be busy with that so we can do our work! Now  _try_ !"

\---

Yang originally went after the Taurian twin with the intent on keeping it busy, give the others time to make some sort of progress, but the second after she got sucker-punched in the face by a bone plated fist, it became personal. She lost track of Blake -of everything- and found herself consumed with the desire to beat the living daylights out of this butt-ugly thing. Sure, the Old One had a good two feet of height and maybe a couple hundreds pounds over her, but that first  _pow_ to the kisser gave her one hell of a boost; the only thing she is really concerned about is that tail and the mouth full of fangs on the end of it.

_Are you all right?_ Blake's voice rings through her head, worried.

_I'm fine. Just keep the little ones off me, I can handle this walking dumpster fire._

_I'm sending Glynda and the others your way once I reach them, I think they managed to drop the other one._

_Sweet, now if you'll excuse me,_

Yang charges headlong at the towering Grimm, dropping to slide across the pavement on her hip once she's close enough, avoiding a broad sweep of its arm as she slides between its legs. Sure enough that tail comes for her, the serpent's mouth wide open as it lunges blindly. Yang blocks with her prosthetic arm, cutting a smirk as the snake readily snaps its mouth around it. Yang gets to her feet and puts the viper into the tightest headlock she can, then she drops to roll backwards as the Grimm tries to turn on her. Coupled with the push of her legs she yanks on the monster's tail, tearing it off balance and putting it on the ground. Back on her feet again she puts her entire body into pulling on its tail, twisting at the waist until she gains enough momentum to raise the Progenitor over her head and slam it to the ground. The flagstones crumble beneath the impact of its impossible weight, and for a moment the creature seems stunned. Yang advances only to get a hoof to the stomach at -what feels like- mach four once she's close enough. She rolls across the pavement, eventually flopping to a stop.

_Yang! I felt that, do you need help?_

_Nah, bastard just got a luck shot._ Lucky enough to make her ribs hurt. _I've still got this._

_I'm almost to Glynda, I'll be there soon._

_In that case I'll try to leave some for you._

Yang gets up and charges right back in, jaw clenched against the radiating pain in her skin and the heat building in her guts. Another blow like that and this thing would be in for a  _world_ of hurt.

\---

Barren finds her eyes drawn to an offensively vibrant veil of purple and green light below. Something about it, the sight and feel of it sparks a distant familiarity, something left over from its previous host that it still finds disgusting and abrasive. A tight expression manifests on Emerald's face as the notions crawl through her, but it smooths over when the light disappears. Then her brow creases with curiosity as she notices what looks like a solid black ribbon slithering through to air towards her, and before she can decipher what it is or what to do, it slams into her with enough force to throw her back.

For a moment she lays there, limbs spread out as she stares up into the sky, apparently confused. Her borrowed body throbs with something both like and unlike pain, and she isn't sure if she should be angry or baffled. Once she realizes what just happened, she scrambles to her feet with a toothy snarl and marches back to the edge of the tower. Fury roils through her now, an emotion she knows and embraces.

She notices some lesser Grimm are starting to scurry their way across the rooftops of the academy, clamoring to reach this side instead of staying with the Progenitor that spawned them as they should. Barren watches as they make their way down the walls and across the plaza, their path centralizing towards where she can see Cinder battling hunters below. When she realizes that they have begun fighting  _for her_ , that fury spikes and shines with a hellish brilliance in her eyes.

Barren had not given the command for this, which could only mean that Cinder was doing it.

A sharp turn of her head puts her eyes on Jabberwocky, who growls anxiously at the weight of her gaze. "Go!" she cries. "Kill  _all of them_ ! If it is not of me then I demand it  _dead_ !" And at the same time she telegraphs the order to all the others.

Jabberwocky screeches and obeys, turning and diving from the ledge of the tower.

\---

Neo reappears atop Beacon Academy, perching ever so precisely on the crest of its tallest, steepled roof. Balanced here she can see the entire sprawl of the grounds, but maintains focus on the amphitheater below. It's such a mess already; flagstones are scorched and drenched with the remains of lesser Grimm, and many more still flood the place. An upward glance allows her to see another large shape darting over Vale, a red one, but there are smaller silver ones too -likely Atelsian ships.

Looking down again something almost immediately grabs her attention, a flicker of gold among the black and red blurs of Grimm. She watches for a moment, thinking until an idea nests itself and makes her cut a sinister, wound-like grin. She throws up a glamor, her hair straightening, lengthening, and going jet black, then her eyes glow a rich amber and felid ears sprout atop her head before she disappears again.

Once on the ground she starts tearing her way through lesser Grimm, meaning to blend in as quickly as possible, all the while keeping her eyes on the split second flickers of blonde hair that she steadily draws closer to. Normally she would get bent about all the Grimm gore that splashes over her, but she accepts it now knowing it will only make it harder for her ruse to be undone. Cutting down the last of them brings her to a gap in the horde where Yang and the Old One are still trading blows, just in time to see the Guardian's head snap to one side with a well timed swing of the Progenitor's bone clad fist.

Yang blocks the next blow with her arm, then the next one with the other, and then pushes forward with a burst of aura to give her enough height to snatch it by the horns. With her boots in its stomach she wrenches and jerks, trying to either snap its neck or get it off balance. It groans and resist, trying to pull the human off but somehow unable; Yang just tightens her grip, her cybernetic hand clenching with enough force to splinter a portion of the monster's horn. When she can't stand the burn of its clawed fingers in her skin she looses one hand to throw a volley of shots from Ember Celica in its face. It howls pitifully, hands covering its eyes as it staggers back, giving the young huntress the opportunity she needs; she pushes off its chest, dropping all her weight back and down to pull it forward until it trips on its own hooves.

She keeps hold of it a moment longer, taking two big steps back when it tries to get up, then snaps its horns clean off with a punctuated roar of exertion and cloud of steam from her mouth. The serpentine tail rises up with a hiss, fangs bared in the second before it lunges. Yang times it perfectly, jamming the point of one horn through the top of its head, her other arm then windmilling to repeat the action to the Old One. It writhes there for a moment, limbs trembling before it flops into total stillness.

Yang pants, her irises glimmering red as her body pulses with pain and hot aura. She wipes the blood from her face and nods to herself, seemingly satisfied. Now she remembers she needs Glynda -though she can't remember why. Part of her is reluctant to leave its remains, having a sinking suspicion that it's going to get back up if she turns on it for too long, but in the end she decides to move on. If it was going to somehow reanimate itself, she didn't want to deal with that alone; once, maybe, but she couldn't go toe-to-hoof with that twice.

As she turns she finds arms thrown around her and at first she mentally panics, then Yang looks down to see sable hair and folded ears and relaxes, finding herself reciprocating.

"Oh, kitten, you scared me for a second." she takes a moment to squeeze her partner. "Gods above, you're filthy," Yang laughs, feeling the stick of Grimm offal in her Maiden's hair.

Neo's grinning like mad with her face hidden in the brawler's big shoulder, she's almost shivering with anticipation as she turns her stiletto over in her hand. But before she can do anything else, Yang has her hands on her shoulders and pushes her back, looking her in the eyes.

"Where's Glynda?"

She reacts more than she means to, obvious confusion showing on her borrowed face.

_Yang, are okay? I'm on my way. We know how to banish them!_

Yang's brow furrows as she looks down at the Faunus in front of her, knowing but not understanding how she heard a thought when...

Neo will admit that she sort of panicked, but it was only for an instant. It's there and gone again as she adjusts her stance in Yang's arms, pulling one arm back before thrusting it forward again; the tip of the weapon pierces a little lower than she meant for it to, but at this point she doesn't care. All she cares about is the absolute shock on Yang's face, the way it goes pale, and the strangled sounds of air trapped in the brawler's throat.

\---

"They're heading for the tower!" Qrow shouts once he's aware of the lesser Grimm's suddenly intelligent movements. And if that wasn't telling enough, Jabberwocky's echoing roar made his head turn in time to watch it dive out of sight. When it never resurfaced, his gut dropped.

"We'll have to split up," Blake answers, a little winded, "I think Yang just put down another one, we'll catch up after-," it felt like the world just dropped out from under her, all the air flying out of her lungs as a lance of hot pain shoots through her and she hits the pavement. For a moment she can't breathe, can't move, everything has disappeared save for the blistering heat building in her brain.

Everyone stops, but once he's aware of it Qrow begs desperately for the rest of them to keep going. If another of those things is down, they need to get rid of it while it's still possible. Maab, Billy, and Glynda have no qualms pressing on, but Weiss and Gypsy need a little more pushing.

"Y-Yang," Blake manages to squeeze out. Qrow hears this and adopts the angle to convince them to go, relieved when they finally listen.

"Come on, Blake," Qrow has to encourage from a distance, busy with keeping the remaining lesser Grimm at bay. "We're not done yet, you have to get up."

But gods, it hurts so  _bad_ ; her whole body burns and her skull is full of brimstone static. Something is so terribly wrong but the pain has her paralyzed. It's never been this bad.

Then she realizes, through the heavy, searing haze, that it has. It feels just like the incident from weeks before, when Yang all but lost herself at Schnee Manor, except amplify that by no less than ten.

Noise roars along the molten glass thread between the Summer Maiden and her Guardian, and the pain is blinding. Blake feels a warm wetness on her top lip, feels it dripping from the tip of her nose and somehow knows it's blood. Every attempt she makes to reach Yang is rebuked with a back draft of withering heat and a mental shock so sharp she almost faints. She can't hear Qrow trying to talk to her, to get her attention, but she feels his hands on her and she wants to pull away. Her own hands hook into her scalp, half pulling on her ears, and she screams when the pain surges.

\---

A nauseatingly high pitched shriek fractures the air, drawing all eyes upward in time to see the incredible bat Grimm soar over the school. It banks to come back, wailing a second time, the noise focused enough to split the academy down the middle, to its very foundations with percussive sound. Anything else caught in its path doesn't fare so well either, a swath of lesser Grimm left as little more than reaching black stains in its wake.

They watch it pass over again, back towards Vale where it banks a second time; it also draws the hunters' eyes to the ground, to a fresh host of Grimm led by another Progenitor that Glynda personally recognizes. And, in a way, Billy knows it just as well. Finally they see the Lion's face, finally they know what it really is, and finally they have a chance to kill it. And this time they refuse to be stopped, transforming into the hulking Bison to charge headlong towards the approaching horde. Gypsy breaks away as well with only a single word to her mother, going after her fellow Faunus not only to lend a hand -because  _no one_ can stand up to a mob that size on their own- but because she can't help but put herself between them and her children. With aura pulsing beneath every step she's quick to catch up, latching onto Billy's side with one hand to make sure she keeps pace.

"I'm with you, big-and-tall."

Billy just groans and tosses their head, a signal that Gypsy takes to climb aboard. Atop their back she has free hands to draw her revolvers, and immediately unleashes a volley of shots once she has her sights leveled.

\---

_Kill all of them_ Mother said. Mother  _demanded_ . And what Mother wants, Mother gets.

Vale had fallen behind her, long since blurred out of thought as Mother's voice swamped her head. It's one of the two things she was able to actually give any attention to; that voice, and doing whatever is necessary to reach the source of it. Mother is calling and she didn't want her to have to wait long, so that means  _they all needed to die_ .

She hid among the pride of Grimm lions once she found them in the city, the creatures likely sensing one of their own and not seeing the young woman in tattered hospital scrubs. She eventually breaks from them, spiraling away in a flurry of withered flower petals to gain several lengths ahead and crossing into the boundaries of the amphitheater. Like any predator she takes a brief survey of the area, looking for the most vulnerable prey, for any one of  _them_ that appeared to be dragging or falling behind. And while she finds neither -none that are unprotected by another- she still spots the prefect target; a gleaming white figure among the remaining lesser Grimm. She crosses the grounds in three blitzing movements, the third sending her crashing into her intended quarry.

Weiss can't remember taking a hit that hard and being left feeling like her brain is rattling loose in her skull. She finds herself face down on the pavement, knees and elbows and chin scraped all to hell alongside throbbing ribs and shoulders. She hadn't been at all ready for that. Just like she isn't at all ready to look at her attacker and see her Guardian looming over her; Ruby's face is streaked partly black and dotted with still forming bone plates, she pants to reveal a mouth half full of fangs, and her eyes are a darker silver than normal and savagely wild. Veins of glistening mercury break up the blackness in her face.

Before she can even begin to process what she sees, Weiss braces for an attack.

\---

Cinder knew there was a risk in calling the Grimm to her aid, but she hadn't expected the consequences to come so suddenly. She had no idea that Jabberwocky would come soaring down from its perch, claws first, giving her a split second to move aside or be crushed to death -and after all the work she's put in, she  _refused_ to die like  _that_ . But, thankfully, the sizable host of lesser Grimm, and the Old One, in truth, that answered her stolen Semblance had done their job. 

Two of the Rabbit Faunus had come out of the tower to fight with a now partly scattered Team JNPR, the larger one charging headlong into any that got too close, the impact severe enough to make the smaller of them simply blast apart into a black mist. Cinder thought to laugh at the other, smaller Faunus when she saw her with nothing but a knife, but that amusement quickly turned into something else when the young Witch opened the leather bound folio on her other hip. There's a flash of blue light within the thin book that jumps to her free hand, and with a swing of her arm the light leaps out and splashes to the ground. The glow writhes and splits, solidifying and taking the shapes of numerous large animals that lunge at the Grimm. The Witches, paired with Ren and Nora, were making short work of the lesser Grimm.

In the next instant, Jabberwocky is coming for her, and at that moment Cinder doesn't care an ounce for anything other than the mouthful of teeth she's staring into. Part of her is counting on the young hunters to have enough sense to run from the Old One, and she steels herself to stand her ground and flare every ounce of magic she has behind a desperate grab at the massive monster's will. Her focus burns her skin when Jabberwocky resists, snarling and thrashing its limbs in defiance of being thralled. There's the screech of nails on a chalkboard in her head the second before the Progenitor yields, going quiet and tucking its head in fealty.

She has very simple instructions for it: "Burn it to the ground!" Because at this point she has stopped caring, all bets are off, and she's going to destroy Barren and that damned mirror if it's the last thing she ever does.

It immediately turns from the Maiden and takes two hulking steps towards the tower, angling its head to line up with the open doorway. Its chest swells to capacity as it breathes in, then the air ripples with the incredible heat unleashed from its throat. The huge chamber of the tower's ground floor becomes so full of raw flame that it begins kicking back, splashing outward towards Jabberwocky's feet.

But the structure doesn't ignite.

" _Again_ ! Reduce it to ashes!" And as the dragon begins to collect another breath, she feels the sharp vibration of Spring against her back. She leans back, bending at the waist as a blade whistles passes her with enough force to push air against her face. Guess that nasty shock from earlier did her reflexes some good.

Pyrrha can feel that she's been here before, not just in this place but in this moment; her mind is full of flashes that should be shredding her resolve with instinctual fear because she's looking death in the face. She can feel the fringes of that terror, but it doesn't come any closer. Even if it did, however, she thinks she would still be moving, still be fighting. Her body seems to move on its own, in a way that's outside of brushing it off as muscle memory. Her movements feel unfamiliar yet second nature at the same time, and she executes them flawlessly in spite of not knowing how. This alien sensation steadily mounts until the sword no longer feels right in her hand -something is telling her it simply doesn't  _belong_ \- and she hurls it end over end at Cinder. A well timed kick deflects the blade and sends it tumbling to the pavement, and Cinder is clearly surprised when Pyrrha doesn't attempt to reclaim it before advancing again.

\---

Jaune didn't want to leave Pyrrha alone, but didn't have the time or the heart to choose between her and his two sisters still inside the tower. He and his partner split as he gave her the most brief explanation he could think of before sprinting off to where the dragon was hunched and vomiting fire directly inside. His gut drops when he's half way there and can hear Cinder screaming for Jabberwocky to keep going. Desperation rose like hot bile in his throat, and he moved against the Old One without a single thought as to what he was going to do to stop it.

He goes for the legs, the most accessible body part, mindful of what its tail might do in response. He drops on his shield arm, the plate of metal under him allowing him to slide beneath the monster with a wave of sparks. The first passing swing of his sword slices at the monster's arch, the pain from the blow making it rear back and shriek while flame still billows from its mouth. And as he comes out from under its other side, the blade bounces off the dewclaw of the other foot. Jabberwocky immediately turns on him, encouraging him to get to his feet.

And though the dragon has given up its onslaught of the tower, it has begun to burn.

Again he isn't thinking and his body moves without his permission; he jumps over Jabberwocky's tail when it whips towards him, and once he's on his feet again he makes a sharp turn for the tower, jumping through the flames without hesitation.

\---

As close as they keep to each other, Cinder sees that something is drastically different about her opponent, and not just the sharply mounting pressure of another Maiden's presence against her own. Her tactics have changed, almost like Pyrrha is a total stranger -and Cinder would know because she often played that night back in her head. The younger huntress uses her shield solely for defending herself, unlike the last time they went toe-to-toe when she easily adapted to using it as a weapon. And she still hasn't reclaimed her sword, seemingly more content to fight back using only her limbs, favoring her legs. Cinder had never seen anyone fight like this; maybe some of it could be written off as leftovers from months of the poor girl scrambling around on all fours, but, to Cinder, that's unlikely. Her technique is too precise to just be vestigial instinct. And even when she and the Progenitor were one, there had been no sign of...whatever the hell this is.

Pyrrha's body works in quick, tight circles, constantly building and maintaining momentum that she translates into heavy swings. She knows this isn't like her, yet the movements come thoughtlessly. She rarely stops, only pausing to block a response from Cinder, to answer magic with magic in spite of barely recognizing the feeling of it beneath her aura.  _Something_ inside of her does, and the power comes when she calls, and all the while her eyes burn green with life, just as Cinder's smolder with fury.

Pyrrha finally manages to catch her; she advanced with what Cinder thought would be a lunging knee to the chest, but Pyrrha quickly turned it into an elbow drop the the Fall Maiden's collar bone. There's the punctuated  _pop_ of bone separating, Cinder flinching at the pain and giving Pyrrha the opening to drop kick her in the stomach.

Cinder rolls and skids across scraping pavement, stopping flat on her back and panting at the pain in her shoulder and the heavy, almost panicked throb of her focus against her sternum. When she opens her eyes her vision wobbles, making her feel only a little sick. Her head turns, the sudden motion only serving to make her dizzier. She forces herself to roll over, to get on her hands and knees and stabilize because her brain is screaming for her to get back up.

"W-well," Cinder pants, still swaying even on all fours as she is, "at least you troubled yourself to make things interesting for me this time." And she's just shy of laughing. "It's going to feel... _so good_ when I kill you."

Pyrrha is steadily advancing, wordless, entirely focused on her task.

"Suppose witty banter isn't your style," Now Cinder's on her knees, mostly stable, with her back to the other Maiden. She's aware of the dull hum that's no longer in her ears, recognizes it as the tug of magnetism. She sees the discarded sword nearby. "Just as well. Tell me something, Nikos, do you still believe in destiny?"

Cinder waits, eyes on the blade that shakes a little against the stone. Pyrrha keeps moving forward, her Semblance tentatively reaching.

"Because  _I_ do."

The humming sound pitches and there's a blossom of sparks as the sword all but jumps off the ground. It goes as Cinder anticipated and she manages to snatch the weapon by the handle as it sails close to her, but she hadn't counted on just how hard Pyrrha had pulled the metal towards her. There was enough momentum behind it to make Cinder think Pyrrha was trying to pull the whole world, and then her shock doubles over in one awful moment when she feels the hunk of lead in her abdomen vibrate for a split second before being ripped free through her back. It snatches the air right out of her lungs, putting her back on her elbows like a wounded hound.

Pyrrha hadn't planned on that, all she wanted to do was get the sword out of Cinder's reach, and now she looks at the bloody ball of metal in her hand with a certain wonder.

The pain centers on her focus, and Cinder's rage surges as she twists upright and faces Pyrrha. Energy flares like tongues of fire from her eyes. " _Gods **damn you**_ !"

Pyrrha doesn't think, she just reacts in the same instant that Cinder takes her first advancing step towards her. Her Semblance and her body work in tandem, sending the bullet back with equal if not greater velocity than when it was fired from a Witch's revolver. There's a curt whip of air and Cinder jolts to a stop, her torso twisting unnaturally though she remains standing. Her hands are at the middle of her chest, her eyes are watering and the light in them is flickering.

Cinder looks down, part of her -an almost child like region of her brain- too afraid to open her clenched fists and see how bad it is. But then she realizes that the pain is insignificant, barely there, and she's compelled out of sheer curiosity to see for herself. Is this just what dying feels like? Like nothing? Maybe she should ask Pyrrha?

The Fall Maiden is still for a moment, and then begins laughing softly to herself. In her palms isn't blood, but the fragments of her focus.

 

 

Author's Note: My apologies if any of this was confusing. Sometimes that works to my advantage, because this sort of situation can be overwhelming and harried, and I always try to capture the reality of a scene as best I can. Next chapter, we'll see what happens.

 


	60. Chapter Fifty-Nine

Barren watches with building delight as the once frozen mechanism of the vault suddenly begins working again with a grinding, metallic lurch of sound. Her hellish eyes shimmer as she watches the panels in the floor continue to separate, revealing a collection of gears and hydraulics that hiss loudly with activation. Finally the last of the barriers open up, a trio of solid steel doors that slide back and disappear beneath floor; underneath, at first, there seems to be nothing but an impossible blackness, but Barren knows better, she can feel the pulse of the mirror and the lingering essence of her creator.

She steps into the darkness, not at all surprised that it holds her solid, and she feels the energy coursing through her host like a soft, welcoming caress. When she stands at the center her gaze drops to her feet, and laid out before her is not the reflection of her host, but of _herself_. When Emerald smiles it doesn't translate to the reflected image, but the infernal glow of her eyes does.

Emerald's body collapses there against the glass, crumpled on her side as if in sleep, but the reflection of Barren remains unchanged. Then the image begins to ripple and distort briefly, taking on a faint greenish hue as the magic in the mirror stirs. The black Dust glass shimmers and then softens to something like tar, though still seemingly transparent. The Mother Grimm rises up, distorting the mirror's surface with her frame as it presses up from underneath. It hangs around her, a burial shroud that eventually parts, splitting open like a moth's cocoon. Barren emerges upright and on now solid glass.

A vertical slit in the middle of her forehead splits and out of it bulges the only eye that functions. The iris is pitch black and slitted, immolated by a roiling inferno of color as it darts about to take in the surroundings. Her thin, almost serpentine nostrils flare to take in a chestful of air for the first time in ages, and she gently shivers at a gust of wind that washes up from behind her. She can feel with her own body, and if she were capable of feeling joy outside of a host, she would certainly do that now. Barren regards the girl at her feet, no visible expression on her face that looks to be black but covered in a mask of white, forming a strange minimalist skull pattern. She has no visible mouth, though white markings frame where it might have been, but her thoughts are so powerful they can be heard loud and clear.  _**I will have you too.** _ is all she says before moving on, walking off of the mirror towards the edge of the tower where she had been moments ago. 

Spreading her touch across Remnant and tainting Zerline's labors would have to come second to wiping her Maidens off the face of the earth. Something she thinks will be very simple, considering they are all right here. But for a moment she simply surveys the chaos below, not at all bothered by the fact that the tower is actively going up in flames, and realizes if she could find another moment's patience that one of the Maidens would be dealt with.

\---

Cinder's chest heaves with building laughter that's tight in her throat, as she's still riding out the pain in her sternum from the bullet's insufficient impact. She wipes the dust and fragments of her focus on her denim clad thigh, discarding its remains now that it's empty and meaningless. She can feel it, gods above  _she can feel it_ surging -her now whole soul is roaring to life with all the light and fire of a sun. The power ignites in her heart, a brilliant amber glow much like what shines in her eyes beginning to push light through to the surface of her skin. 

Pyrrha can see the silhouette of her ribcage and sternum, and can count clusters of nerves and veins as the light travels through her entire body, pooling in her fingertips and around her eyes. The Fall Maiden's hair wafts around her face as if stirred up by a hot updraft, and now she can feel it too -it's more than enough to make the fallen champion break out in a heavy sweat. When Cinder glares at her and unleashes a triumphant laugh, the back of her throat is all aglow with the power inside of her.

Her heart races like she's been running for hours, pounding behind her ribs to the point of struggling. Cinder feels like she could rule the world with this new found strength -no one could stop her, not even  _Barren_ ! Gods above, this power is...is  _huge_ . It's  _enormous_ . It's...oh gods, it's  _too big_ . Flames lap upward from her palms without her having called them, and where she once felt just a soothing warmth she now begins to feel an alien blistering in her skin. The flames roar larger, swallowing up to her elbows and spreading the pain with it that just mounts and mounts and mounts. Cinder Fall never understood what it meant to burn until this moment, and the sensation is terrifying. It immolates her stalwart resolve, reducing her to panic and confusion as she watches her own flesh blacken and split apart like molten rock. A column of white hot fire spills from her mouth when she screams.

Pyrrha doesn't know what she's seeing, all she knows is that it's all happening too fast and that the static of magic in the air has pitched startlingly high. It's pulling on her, strangely feeling like it's trying to separate her from her own magic. It's too much like when Cinder pulled her and Manticore apart and she feels herself mentally cowering, and her cries of agony are too familiar too. Pyrrha can feel that Ren's Semblance is finally starting to wear off. Fear is creeping in and stimulating her natural instinct to preserve her own existence, because whatever is happening to Cinder doesn't look like it's about to stop. When the Fall Maiden collapses to her knees, Pyrrha turns and runs, stopping and turtling behind her shield when she feels that mystical pull peak. Then all she knows is the roar of fire all around her and the oppressive heat as it sweeps across the plaza.

Cinder disappears in column of wildly spinning flames that spiral upward, taller than the tower, and expand outward in a great, loud burst. There's a last, shattering cry in the middle of it all, the force enough to scatter all the light and heat as if it was never there, leaving behind a charcoal mist; even the tower no longer burns. All the lesser Grimm have been vanquished, vaporized, leaving only Jabberwocky as it tucks behind the protection of its singed wings. And all that remains of Cinder Fall is a charred likeness made of embers and compressed ash, the Maiden having been immortalized in her last second, huddled in on herself like a frightened child.

Jabberwocky comes out from behind its cover and stares across the plaza, its gaze strangely...emotional as its glowing eyes fix on what's left of the Fall Maiden. Its jaws work stupidly, unsteady, and it makes quiet screeches and trills of distress. Then distress abruptly morphs into what could only be described as anger; it thrashes its head back and forth, roaring and spitting up fire as its tail swings with aimless intent. It leaps against the tower, latching onto the side and climbing more than halfway up so it could release its hold and take flight. It disappears on the other side of the school.

 

Jaune would only see the dragon take off; he, Alice, and Trixie jumped from a window on the far side of the tower to escape the flames just as they were snuffed out by the force of the blast. He coughs and sputters as he gets to his feet, watching Jabberwocky disappear before returning attention to his sisters. Trixie has a bad burn and Alice is on the verge of a panic attack, so he tells them to make a run for it -to grab Nessa and Jess and find somewhere safe, preferably with their mother. When he's certain they're able to do as he suggested, he goes in search of his scattered team.

 

Barren had watched all of this from her perch, equal parts pleased and disappointed. Perhaps Cinder  _hadn't_ been who she thought she was. An easy mistake to make, and besides, what's done is done and there is still so much she needs to attend to that is far more important. She moves to step over the edge, meaning to see to those matters personally.

\---

Manticore cowers. It  _cowers_ because it learned fear from being bound too long to a human, and because it remembered the face of the one hunting it. Now it's on the ground, all but dragging itself across the pavement in shaking kicks of its limbs. Its thoracic jaw trembles and gurgling noises weasel out as Billy advances in long, confident strides. It's pride had been decimated by the former Guardian and their Witch companion, its tail lopped off at the base, and then they proceeded to thrash the Progenitor within an inch of its life. The only reason it was still moving is because Billy wanted to end it on  _their_ terms; they sent Gypsy away to fetch her sister, confident they would have another Old One for Glynda to send back to the black hell it slithered out of.

Billy stalks to it, both axes ready and already black with Grimm offal that leaves ribbons on the ground as they walk. Eventually the creature is too scared to move, now rolled on its back because it doesn't know what else to do -it doesn't understand how fear works. But the Faunus doesn't care, on its feet  _or_ its back, they mean to kill it all the same, to collect the debt of eighteen innocent lives. But they wouldn't do it quickly. 

They hooked its bottom jaw with an ax and dragged its entire body around as it shrieked in both terror and pain, its hand-like paws tucked in as if the Lion was no more than a helpless kitten. When Billy had it where they wanted it, they swing hard with the back of the weapon, smashing in the monster's teeth until its mouth was full of nothing but bloodied nubs. And Manticore just let it happen, wailing yet frozen with terror as its one eye bulged in the skull's mouth. It swiped at them once, more reflexive than courageous, only to have the appendage sliced off. Now it squirms wildly, pitch ichor spitting from the wound in ribbons.

Billy then forces it on its side, belly facing them, and then hacks both axes between its hind legs. With one big step -the first of several- and a twist of their waist they drag the blades along its body, splitting it from stern to stem. Whatever passes for a Grimm's innards come tumbling out with a loud, wet  _splat_ , and now Manticore is choking on its own bile and blood. One heaving, agonized exhale unleashes a pitiful flash of fire, but then nothing more than smoke. Billy steps around to its head, wanting to be certain this damnable thing can see them. For a moment they just watch its bulbous eye, the once terrorizing glow now flickering and waning, pitiful. It pants and blubbers manically as they raise one ax, and then howls when the blade comes down. The eyes bursts apart in a single swing, but Billy doesn't stop there, they continue on, swinging one ax and then the other in a gradually increasing rhythm until the creature's face is wholly unrecognizable. What was once the terror of Menagerie is now just a mess of viscera and slime. And its now still body only continues to deteriorate from there.

Billy watches, taking a moment not only to catch their breath, but to accept the great weight that no longer sits on their shoulders, the relief of something like closure.  _That was for us too, Tag. That was for us._

Their contemplation is broken up by a surge of energy that's abruptly followed by a gust of hot wind almost strong enough to knock them over. Once stable again they look in the direction they had felt it come from, looking over the wreckage of the academy to see a sky full of black smoke and the huge Bat Grimm bursting through it as it's chased by a pair of small Atlesian ships. They have no idea what just happened, all they know is that it was something huge, the idea only reinforced when they see Jabberwocky take to the air and pass overhead.

"Billy!"

Jerking around they see Taiyang sprinting across the plaza, one arm up in the air and waving. "The hell are you doing here?" they ask once he's close enough.

"Ruby," he pants, "she broke out of the hospital...followed her here. Have you seen her?"

"Wait, wait, she did  _what_ ?"

"It's that black stuff, it's controlling her somehow."

Billy scowls with a punctuated curse. They regard the Progenitor's carcass, now half dissolved, for only a second before giving attention back to Tai. "Come on, we'll find her."

And they wouldn't have to stray far.

 

_(--)_

Consciousness comes back in a barreling instant, a terrible shock that wracks her body and makes her tense all over. Everything is jumbled together except the instinct to breathe, but even that she has to fight to discern in the chaos of her senses waking up and being assailed by outside stimuli. Her lungs expand too quickly and she begins to choke, even the pressure of gravity on her chest feels too heavy so she struggles to roll over. She rolls too far and is jolted by the impact of a short fall to a cold, tiled floor. But she doesn't fight it, she accepts it and tries her damnedest just to focus on breathing. For an agonizingly long moment she can't pick apart and separate sounds and physical sensations, everything has been reduced to either a dull roar or the sensation of pins and needles. When it all becomes too much her stomach clenches and she heaves. Nothing comes up, but her body follows through the motions anyway.

Just as she starts to level out again, she feels an easy, soothing palm against her back. She tries to focus on it, helping herself along to getting it all back together again.

"Miss Tag, you with me now?"

She doesn't recognize the voice at first, but then remembers. "D-Daisy, yes...yes, I'm here." the Faunus pants.

"Here, come on, let's get you off the floor," Daisy has her by the arm while gently lifting, helping back onto the cot she had just rolled out of. When she's stable the specialist knees in front of her, waiting for Tag to lift her head. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Tag rubs her eyes and blinks until everything focuses. "Two." she clears her throat, swallowing bitter bile. "Where are we?"

"Field HQ in west Vale."

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost fifteen hours, everyone's been worried sick."

"I don't doubt." she smiles sluggishly, pushing her hand through her hair. "And I'd love to explain but there isn't time. I have to get out there."

"With all do respect, ma'am, I don't think you're fit to do much else but sit and collect yourself."

"I'm just going to have to muscle through it." and with noticeable effort Tag rises to her feet, stretching hard once she's upright. " _Please_ , Daisy, either you help me get to them or I find someone who will."

"Now did I say I wouldn't?" Daisy stands up, pushing the creases out of her uniform. "I've got orders after all. Let's grab Winter and ship out."

It would take a few moments, but the three of them, including a full company of other specialists, load up a drop ship and take off for Beacon.

 

_(--)_

That damnable bat swoops over the plaza screeching and eventually destroying the ships that have been tailing it, giving it leave to do as it pleases. Part of Weiss knows - _knows_ \- that it is going to come for her. Not how or when, only that it will.

Weiss hadn't wanted to accept it, another part of her had accepted it and prayed they would stop this before it became so severe, but regardless, she accepted it now. As her Guardian fights -literally- tooth and nail to rip her to pieces, Weiss accepts that Ruby has been tainted by Grimm and was presently losing her fight against it. On the same hand, Weiss feels that she's losing this fight too. By some act of the gods -because no less could have possibly been enough- she has lost track of Myrtenaster, and her hands feel helplessly empty as she does her best to defend herself without it. It certainly doesn't help matters that close quarters is not her strong suit, and neither is unarmed combat. And Ruby is fast, _too_ fast, and if Weiss had ever thought her partner as unpredictable before, that thought has become a shocking certainty. Almost as shocking as the crimson streaks of Weiss' own blood splashed across her once immaculate white skirt.

In the handful of short moments since Ruby appeared, Weiss' feels as though she's been bitten countless times. Her hands feel flayed and raw, her forearms fare no better, and she feels the burn of claw marks up her back every time she moves. Between that and the pained horror the Maiden feels in her heart, it's all but impossible to respond. She defends herself from lethal harm and little else, and all the while her mental link with Ruby rings with incomprehensible growling noises. It grinds against her senses and makes it all the more difficult to focus.

"Ruby, please," she cries, flinching at the veil of sparks that spring from the impact of claws against her aura, "don't make me do this! I don't want to hurt you!"

She receives a savage shriek in response, followed by a flurry of swipes that push through her defenses and shove her to the ground. Tears run down her face and she can't keep it together; she can't make herself fight her own partner. When Ruby lunges again, her only reflex is to put up the stoutest glyph she can. Her Team Leader crashes into the solid emblem with a pulse of light, stalling only for a moment of confusion before Ruby begins trying to tear through it. And because of her diminished focus and conviction, the glowing sigil is already beginning to flicker.

Before it shatters Weiss feels a pair of thick arms cinch around her and haul her up and away, and for a moment, though she's on her feet again, she's dizzy and disoriented. Blinking her vision clear she can see Billy and Ruby, the two silver-eyed warriors grappling at each other.

"Are you seriously hurt, Miss Schnee?"

Tipping her head she sees and recognizes Taiyang, swallowing the thickness in her throat that keeps from speaking. "I-I'll be fine. B-but Ruby,"

"I know," it's all he can think to say on the matter. What else is there? Loosening his grip he watches the massive Faunus as they're simply unable to keep a solid hold on his daughter; she's so much smaller it seems effortless for her to twist out of their grasp.

When Billy does manage to get her still, Ruby snarls and takes a whole mouthful of their arm between her teeth, blood splashing against her face. But Billy holds fast; they're unsure of what to do, not knowing if calling on their own magic was the best choice. It might prove too much and kill her.

Another rippling shriek shatters overhead, drawing their eyes. That bat is going to make another pass, and Weiss knows it means to tear the place apart as it goes as it drops altitude like it had before plowing through the school. Just as she knows she doesn't have time to retrieve Myrtenaster -much less look for it. Then again, at this point, she wasn't looking for a fight -she means to kill it, and a sword would just get in her way. The opal fractals in her eyes flicker like stars, then begin to glow.

She steps away from Taiyang in the same instant she feels the magic beneath her aura flex like one massive muscle, every ounce of power coming to attention. The energy wraps around her, alters her thoughts to that of a proper Maiden and pulls her focus together with a cold, mental snap. Weiss watches the red Progenitor as it draws nearer, feeling the vibrations of its cries even at this distance, seeing the same vibrations shattering pavement as it sweeps the amphitheater again. Weiss remembers what Tag said - _Winter is the season of adaptation_ \- and knows now that though she has no weapon, she is far from unarmed.

In a fleeting instant her magic centers in her chest, just behind her sternum where it coils like a spring. The glow in her eyes flares, a kaleidoscope of colors dancing as she takes a deep breath. It perches there, just below her throat, and continues to build, incredible power doubling over itself time and again. But she keeps it all trained, compressed to the size of the head of a pin. When the Grimm is close enough, when she's _more than certain_ that she can't miss, she unleashes it.

To those watching, it looks like Weiss is simply exhaling, but that's because the tone she's hitting is _much_ too high for even Faunus to hear. But the Old One will hear it, with ears as big is it has it'll hear it plain and clear -likely the last thing it ever will. There's a miniscule strand of shimmering whiteness in the second before the energy hits, connecting the Maiden and the Grimm as the magic passes like thread through a needle and lands squarely between the empty sockets of the Grimm's eyes. It screeches, its head rearing back and interrupting the rhythm of its wings that keep it aloft. Before it hits the ground, its head explodes into a fine mist of tar. The momentum of its flight carries it across the flagstones, the body rolling limply until it stops a few yards from the Winter Maiden's feet.

Now, with that taken care of, Weiss turns her attention back to more pressing matters.

\---

Until today, Neo would have sworn to having never feared another living soul in her entire life. At most she had always been cautious, even of Salem and Cinder; she wasn't afraid until today.

Only seconds ago she had been wearing one of the most satisfied smiles that stretched from ear to ear. If she had been able to she would have laughed in Yang's face in triumph of her own cleverness. But all that was so swift to change that even now the memory of it is blurred; the horror on the young huntress' face morphed, at first only with pain, and then it twisted up into an unbridled fury. Her irises were no longer a brilliant red, that color had bled into the whites of her eyes while her irises paled until they were wholly colorless. They seemed to glow with an inhuman rage, and that's when Neo's sadistic glee began to shrivel into gut wrenching fear.

Yang snatches Neo's tiny wrist in a steel-trap grip, the changeling's glamor immediately shimmering away as incredible heat sank through her clothes and began to burn the skin underneath. Reflexively Neo releases her hold on her weapon and jerks in an attempt to escape, ultimately unsuccessful as heat billows around her and makes her sweat. Then she watches, her bi-colored eyes widening impossibly further as the steel spike jutting through Yang's stomach wilts, warps, and then liquifies, the hooked handle clattering to the pavement. The hole it had made cauterized itself shut with a drawn out _hiss_ , leaving a smudge of black at the head of a trail of blood. She tries harder to tear herself free, suddenly much too aware of her own blood starting to simmer between Yang's fingers.

The last thing Neo is aware of is the split second of pain and inertia behind the steel of Yang's other hand. She'll have no memory of the horrendous beating that followed.

There's a crater in the flagstones with Neo's crumpled, bloodied body half buried in the middle when Yang stops her relentless onslaught, her heated attention snatched up by the shrill cry of Jabberwocky as it soars over the school and drops abruptly. It charges on its bulky hing legs, not towards Yang, but after Glynda and Maab as they make their way across the plaza to banish the other, newly dispatched Progenitor. Yang isn't aware of them, she isn't aware of much other than the instinct to kill Grimm.

Glynda tries to put herself between Jabberwocky and her mother, but the smaller Witch swats her aside and sharply reminds her of her task; "I came here to fight, by gods, and that's what I mean to do!"

Scythe still in hand, Maab adjusts her strides to meet the dragon head-on, not seeing Yang leaping towards the Old One until the last second before her cybernetic fist socks it soundly in the eye with her knuckles as well as a burst from Ember Celica. Its jaws snap blindly as it bellows in pain, rubbing at its face with the clawed thumbs at the bends of its wings. Maab doesn't linger in one place too long, but remains close and watches for what the younger huntress does next before making a move.

Yang jumps up and grabs hold of Jabberwocky's bottom jaw, pulling herself up until she's on top of its snout. She'll go for the eyes again, madly pummeling at the heavy bridge between the sockets until the bone begins to break up. When the Grimm shakes in an attempt to get her off, she drops on her stomach and holds on tight with only one hand, leaving the other free to keep pounding away at its armor.

Maab waits...waits... _there._ A blow to the head puts Jabberwocky on its stomach, a wash of ichor rolling down its face from the now gaping compromise in its hide. With a powerful burst of aura Maab throws herself at the Old One, the blade of the scythe dragging behind her until she's close enough; another discharge of energy allows her to swing upward with enough force to cleanly separate the shoulder of one wing from the rest of the Grimm's body. The jerk of its head throws Yang, finally, the young woman soaring head over heels towards the wrecked academy and crash landing through one of the already punched out windows.

Mindful of the slime gushing from the new wound, Maab makes her way to Jabberwocky's far side, meaning to offer the Old One a second helping of the violent courtesy. It takes some doing, and sparks fly from the back plate of her armor when the bone barbs on its tail make contact, making her stumble the rest of the way -she's lived and hunted long enough to know how to stumble gracefully. The Witch jumps from its back, coming down in such a way that the blade catches on its other shoulder, but only with enough weight to allow the blade to slice through the first few inches. Before Jabberwocky can turn its head she swings her body, making a full revolution around the monster's joint and cutting through, and she adds insult to injury by kicking the monster square in the snout with the dismount.

The Grimm wails and writhes, now flightless and mad with pain. When it sees the little Witch it rears back, its chest expanding with a deep breath, but Maab is ready, seeing the rich, hellish glow behind its teeth. What she doesn't see is Yang climbing out through the window she had entered and making a mad dash to the Progenitor's back, throwing herself at it fist first. The first blow hits it soundly in the spine, right on the vertebra which gives slightly underneath, the pain enough to pull back the dragon's head just as it unleashes a torrent of fire.

Maab takes what she gets even though she didn't expect it, and takes a running start towards the Progenitor. Once she's certain of her mark she does a full, three-sixty turn and hurls the scythe with all the momentum it allowed. It spins end over end, whistling as it soars through the air and glimmering with sunlight in the second before the blade sinks in to the hilt between the dragon's ribs. The massive Grimm jolts, its roar of pain choked out by the new lack of air in its body. Maab lingers in place, ready to move at a moment's notice, but hopes she won't have to because she's visibly eager to see what happens. She's been wondering about this moment for decades, praying she's right.

Yang breaks away, apparently believing that Jabberwocky was done for, and finds the nearest pod of lesser Grimm to rip through.

The silver and Dust of the scythe's blade begins to glow, though the light is barely visible with the majority of the metal buried in the Grimm's flesh. Jabberwocky flops onto its side, the ground shaking beneath the impact of its weight, and after a moment it begins to dissolve. The blackness of its flesh grows elastic and starts to run away from its frame in slimy threads. The plates and spikes of bone soften and crack, breaking up to be swallowed by the viscous tar. The scythe is drawn in through its ribcage, the whole thing disappearing in the mire of its melting body. For a moment Maab frets, fearing she might have been wrong -gods forbid- until she sees flickers of light from inside the remains, followed by an impossibly large surge of an aura that's equal parts powerful and ancient.

When the scythe reappears it's upright, held by large hands as the ichor seeps away from the blade, leaving it untarnished and the wood and vines of the stock without a lingering blight. The outline of a tall and powerful figure comes into view, and is then fully revealed as another burst of aura blasts the last of the blackness away. A mane of wild white hair is pushed back and parted in two places by horns that looked to have been more suitable for a massive goat of some kind. Midnight blue skin dotted with pale freckles covers an incredible frame made up of muscular limbs, a large belly that's home to a gray scar that reaches across from hip to ribs, and a bust that's barely covered in the remains of primitive armor constructed of rope and stone.

Maab is ecstatic, outright cheering with a certain satisfied joy when they open their eyes, letting her glimpse the brightest silver irises she has ever seen. Gods above she _was_ right! She watches as her fellow Faunus navigates her way out of the mire of the Old One's remains, all but vibrating with everything she's feeling. Because not only has she made history, but now they have a real, _fighting_ chance of ending this mess once and for all.

"Seren," she exhales, and feels another jolt of satisfaction when the scythe's rightful owner regards her, curiously cocking her head. "Gods alive, it's really you! Daughter of Zerline, Eldest of the Eldest, Mother of-," and she cuts herself off when Seren raises one hand.

"The mirror is open."

Maab's glasses nearly slip off her nose as her expression stretches. "O-oh dear,"

"There's still time," Seren nods once, "but we need to hurry."

"Y-yes, of course." Maab fumbles and steadies herself. "Come with me."

"No, I have my own purpose. You see to yours."

Maab couldn't argue, Seren wouldn't give her the time to as the dragon Faunus bounded off in the direction of the tower.

\---

Jaune felt its presence long before he could see it, a sharp chill reminiscent to someone walking over his grave. Turning towards the sensation he sees nothing but a wall of smoke between him and the trunk of Beacon Tower. Looking up briefly he sees nothing, and his attention is constantly drawn to the ground, his instincts telling him it's _there_ , regardless of whether or not it's visible. Without turning his head he calls to Nora, encouraging her over. Most if not all of the lesser Grimm have been dispatched, so she's quick to his side. He doesn't know it, but she can feel it to, the Witch in her bristling in warning at the feeling of something both like and unlike her.

"Where's Ren?" he asks, unsure as to why he speaks so softly, like he's afraid of something.

"He went to look for Pyrrha."

Jaune just nods, following the instinct to raise his sword and pull his shield tight to his shoulder. That awful coldness in his spine spikes suddenly, pulling his eyes towards his feet to catch the smoke scattering around them, pushed aside by the air rushing around a long, rubbery mass of blackness as it whips by. Not one, but four of them appear and then quickly disappear into the charcoal fog ahead of them. Then, a few seconds later, the smoke parts, revealing the source of that frigid discomfort he feels.

The Mother Grimm walks towards them with unhurried strides, the smoke kowtowing around an invisible sphere of pressure pressing outward from her lean frame. Barren's skin is mostly white, inhumanly so, though her feet and hands -both tipped with talons- looked to have been dipped in tar to the point of dripping and leaving prints as she walks. More ichor appears to pour down her throat from her face, between vestigial breasts and around the gaping vacancy of the abdominal cavity; the gap goes right through, exposing ribs, pelvic bones, and an intact spine. Long coils of blood red hair cloak her shoulders, and her head is crowned in bones that sprout from above her temples like a halo of thorns. The singular, burning eye in the middle of her head zeroes in on the young hunters, bulging in silent fury just at the sight of them. Then she recognizes the boy and the innocent purity of his eyes. Barren's rage pitches, the energy pushing every last tendril of smoke away and even making Jaune and Nora flinch against the minimal show of force.

_**This time I** _ **will** _**shatter you.** _

The voice rings through his head and Jaune feels his heart dangling inside his chest, threatening to drop into his gut. Now he knows what he's up against, now he knows he's in over his head.

"Jaune,"

He almost turns his head, his gaze flitting to the side towards Nora's hushed exhale. It's enough time for him to register the ring of lesser Grimm that has suddenly sprung up, surrounding them; the Mother Grimm had pulled them up out of the pitch smears left on the pavement, good as new. Jaune swallows hard, forcing the panic down with the lump in his throat.

"We can do this." he says, his eyes fixed again on Barren as she continues to steadily approach. "We can," he swallows again, forcing himself to stay stable, "we can hold out until the others get here. No holding back, give them everything you've got."

"I was _hoping_ you would say that," and he can hear just how big her smile is.

\---

She exhales smoke, she knows because she's done it before and it's a taste she'll never forget. The acrid burn of it in her throat helps pull Pyrrha's consciousness back to the surface, that alongside the gentle jarring of hands shaking her shoulders. Her eyes open and she blinks her vision clear, the blur of green and black and pink falling into focus.

Ren is begging with his eyes and she understands. "I'm all right. What happened?"

His gaze flickers to the side for a second, looking passed her and then right back. "Cinder,"

Pyrrha shifts from her knees to the balls of her feet, twisting around to have a good look of what remained of the late Fall Maiden. Pyrrha feels a shiver of disgust but little else.

"Do you," Ren starts carefully, "did her powers pass?"

"I," she thinks, needing a second to fully process the weight of the question. "I don't know. I...don't feel any different." Actually, she does feel different, but not in the way she expected to. For the first time in a long while, she feels very much _herself_. Mentally reaching beneath her aura for the wellspring of magic yields nothing, not even a sense of vacancy, like it was never there. And in some strange way she's relieved, even grateful. Pyrrha shakes herself from the straying thoughts, bringing her attention back to center as she stands up. "It doesn't matter. Where are Jaune and Nora."

"Something came down from the tower and raised the Grimm we killed, I think they're in the midst of it."

"Let's go." and she nods once in congress with a pulse of polarity that pulls her sword and shield to her hands.

 

 

Author's Note: Next chapter should finish all these threads up, and we'll see who's on the chopping block and who actually gets the ax. I'm hoping, at the very least, that it's entertaining, as I've got at least one last big surprise up my sleeve. While there's still more to come after the dust settles, I just want to say thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this far. I know it was a hell of trip to get here, and I'm grateful that you all toughed it out. Love you guys! Critiques are highly appreciated!  


 


	61. Chapter Sixty

Glynda had made it a personal endeavor not to get her hopes up, but she would readily admit that the chain of events leading up to now had tempted her too much. In spite of the almost suffocating odds they all stood against, they had made considerable headway in a seemingly short amount of time; Progenitors were dropping almost as easily as their lesser kin, but that should have made her more cautious than hopeful. She shouldn't have been so ready to believe that they were actually winning. But after banishing three of the Old Ones, and on the verge of sending off a fourth, it was so easy to become optimistic -even for her. But then, as the spell around Manticore's remains resolved, the reality of everything started to sink in.

Now that her focus isn't so singular, Glynda pieces together the state of affairs and her hope deflates. She doesn't recall Mr. Xiaolong's arrival, but is now more than aware of his presence and his reason for being here, and that, in turn, brings her attention to what's become of Ruby. With that considered, Glynda wonders where her sister is, finding it difficult to believe that Yang would be anywhere but here. Though her curiosity is brief, squelched when Qrow appears with Blake propped against him, the Summer Maiden just holding on to her faculties -both of them confirm that Yang is on the verge of going nuclear.

Then, to top it all off, the most horrific sensation surges through anyone sensitive enough to feel it; a wave of dark energy that washes over everything, spontaneously raising every last lesser Grimm that had been dispatched seemingly out of thin air. Glynda had expected there to be more of them, but she had been counting on another wave to come barreling in from Vale proper, not right under their noses like this. Now she knows just how bad things are; the mirror is open and Barren is free, because only _she_ could have summoned so many so abruptly. The sudden, obvious worry on Gypsy's face only serves to reinforce the notion -she has dropped the guise of a Witch in exchange for one of a mother who's terrified for her children, and rightfully so.

"I'm sorry, but we can't just drop everything and go help them." Glynda says. "We need to keep the smaller ones at bay or we'll be overrun."

"Then  _I'll_ go, you can spare me," Gypsy argues.

"If Barren is really free, the  _Maidens_ need to go." but by the looks of things, that is presently impossible. "Help is sure to arrive soon, have a little faith."

"That's a hell of a thing coming from  _you_ !" the older sister laughs before unloading both revolvers into a pack of charging Beowolves, she then ducks behind Glynda long enough to fill the cylinders again. "But those kids might not have that long."

"We just don't have a choice right now!"

"Glynda!"

She and Gypsy switch places as Glynda turns her head towards the sound of her name, seeing Maab barreling in her direction as she uses Thorn to easily carve a path through the Grimm that stand between them.

"Jabberwocky has been dispatched and needs to be banished."

"We can't split up, not with these numbers. And that isn't our only problem."

"Indeed." Maab actually laughs.

Glynda looks at her mother, a kink of confusion in her brow. "Where's the scythe?"

"In the hands of its owner, where it belongs." she nods once. "Glynda, the mirror is open."

"I had chanced to guess as much."

"And your grandchildren are in the thick of whatever's come out of it!" Gypsy calls over her shoulder.

"Support should be headed their way," or so she hoped. "But the Maidens need to address the matter as soon as possible."

"We're working on it." and Glynda says this with a noticeable hesitation, because "working on it" has felt about as productive as jerking off. "But I'll go take care of Jabberwocky, you can take my place."

"I wouldn't do that." Maab cautions."Something strange is going on with Summer's Guardian, I don't think she knows the difference between allies and foes at the moment."

"We _have_ to get rid of them while we can." Glynda takes a split second to weigh her options before settling. "I'm going. Qrow?"

The grizzled hunter turns his head, his sword half way through a Grimm's chest as the beast looms over him.

"Try to get Miss Belladonna in working order again, my life might depend on it."

"No pressure, right?" he grunts in return, not realizing that she's already almost out of earshot. When he notices it, he bites out a curse and turns his attention away from the Grimm to the Maiden he's been shielding. Blood has started running from Blake's more human ears, and the stream of crimson coming from her nose hasn't let up. Now she's laying there, curled on the pavement and shaking, her eyes rolled back behind fluttering lids like in the throws of a seizure. She's obviously worse, but -gods be damned- he doesn't know what to do. Just like he doesn't know what to do about Ruby. Or Yang. Or any of this.

 

Weiss knows she doesn't have the heart to do what she must, so she allows that Maiden part of her to remain in control even though the Old One is long gone. That cold serenity settles in, making her act in spite of how her heart clenches, as she turns to face her rogue Guardian still restrained in Billy's arms. Underneath that she just notices the horror of seeing Ruby with a mouthful of blood and sharp teeth, but it doesn't stop the magic from flexing and pushing itself along their link in a frigid spike of energy. Ruby tenses hard, body bowing in resistance while she growls through a tight jaw. The mark on her wrist shimmers through the darkness of the blight in her skin, a pure, pulsing light. The Winter Maiden feels her resisting, the Grimm in her barking back in warning.

_Heel_. And the thought manifests between them like the crack of a whip, sharp, jarring, precise.

Ruby snarls, the noise matching her mental response while dark silver eyes glare back in defiance.

A little flicker of movement in Weiss' brow proceeds another surge of power. _**Heel**_ _._ And if the first command had been a whip, this one is more like a bullet, a ballistic thought traveling at terminal velocity to pierce the veil of darkness in Ruby's mind and allow the Winter Maiden to grab hold of the thread of her own magic to bolster it. That, in turn, feeds off of the silver in Ruby's blood, only adding to its strength. Weiss couldn't expel the blight, but she refused to let her friend be slave to it any longer. The light of her magic spreads from the mark on Ruby's wrist, lacing through the shadows and maintaining a steady glow.

Both Billy and Tai look more worried than relieved when Ruby stops fighting, even going somewhat limp in the Faunus' arms. Carefully lowering her to the ground, they see that her eyes are still open, she's still conscious but looks to now be in some sort of trance. All the violence is gone from her eyes, but so is the clarity. Ruby settles on her knees, docile for the time being, and this allows Weiss to put the Maiden aside again.

"W-what," Tai stammers, "is she...?"

"She's all right." Weiss wipes at the corners of her eyes with the back of her bloody hand. She hated to do that, but there just wasn't another option. Hopefully her partner would forgive her for it. "Just stay with her." as if she needed to tell him to.

Now that their hands are free again, Billy takes up both axes. "I'll keep them safe. Perhaps you can retrieve the rest of your team?"

Weiss only nods once, quickly turning away even though it's difficult. She's partly surprised to find Myrtenaster so quickly, having been convinced that it was miles away. With her blade at the ready she quickly lances her way through a pack of Grimm that stand between her and Qrow, leaving little more than pitch mist in her wake. She regards him briefly, enough to make him aware of her presence, but then immediately puts all of her focus on Blake. She can feel magic pulsing from her teammate like a frantic, scalding heartbeat, and it rakes against her own aura -Summer and Winter were never meant to mix, after all. Be that as it may, she still has to do something, she has to try and fix this. Briefly mindful of the mess of Grimm around her, she kneels down once she knows she's safe enough to take Blake into her arms. Her heart drops when she feels how tense she is and how she trembles. Gods have mercy.

She remembers hearing about the time before, but never once thought Yang's raging temper could have this affect on Blake. Had it been this bad then? Weiss doesn't bother calling to her, knowing she likely won't hear; if Blake is aware of anything, there's no knowing. The cynical, practical side of Weiss is convinced the Summer Maiden will never be the same, maybe even brain damaged, but she's quick to shake that awful notion from her mind. Instead she devotes her focus to an idea that she has no evidence of being even remotely possible, reaching out to Blake with her own magic, hoping maybe to bridge the three of them together.

It's a plan she almost immediately regrets as the connection solidifies and shudders with white hot pain that shoots through her skull.

\---

Somehow Seren knows her way across the complex, having watched the academy spring up in the shadow of the mountain where Jabberwocky once slept -where Zerline had sealed it away- and subjected her to fever dreams and fleeting visions of the passing centuries. One great leap put her atop one of Beacon's remaining rooftops, offering a less than ideal view of the grounds, and a second puts her on the school's far side, closer to the tower. She sees a teeming mass of lesser Grimm and feels their presence abrasive yet familiar against her aura, just as she feels the heavy frigidity of Barren though she can't see her.

But none of that is her concern, not even the young hunters that stand alone against it all; there would be no stopping any of this until she fulfilled her task.

She makes her way across the plaza in long, powerful strides, her pace not at all hindered by the few stray Grimm that turn on her. A single sweep of the scythe is enough to dispatch them. She follows the smell of smoke and the flickering recollection of a column of fire from mere moments ago -the fire that had partly wrested her from Jabberwocky's grip- eventually reaching its source; ground zero, the epicenter, a charred halo around an epitaph of ash and still glowing embers. Seren feels the heat even from several paces away, but she approaches without hesitation because she knows the flame and has missed it for nigh on a millennia. Maybe two.

Tucking the scythe behind her, Seren kneels down, one big hand gently swaying in front of her face to scatter some of the smoke. This close she can hear the hiss and crackle of smoldering carbon, but there is no smell of death because there hasn't actually been death here. With great care the massive Faunus pulls on her aura and magic, merging them together until a silvery blue light gently glows in the middle of her palm, and then rests her hand against the broad space between the shoulders of Cinder's remains. The energy drifts on, sinking in, searching out the little spark that still thrives.

Seren knows this sort of thing should not be forced or rushed, but she has no other choice, there is no time for it to happen naturally. Their mother's work needed to be finished and it's now or never.

\---

Yang had pushed her fist through the back of a Beowolf's skull when her awareness suddenly snapped back with all the gentility of a bucket of cold water dumped over her. She stumbles, the Grimm still hung on her wrist as she eventually topples to the ground. The whole world is spinning, and it only gets harder as her brain finally registers the awful pain in her stomach and the feeling of a hard weight in the pit of it. She can't focus at all through the heated static and crippling echoes in her head - _stop, you **have to stop** , **you're KILLING HER**_ \- made all the more terrifying when the brawler realized it wasn't  _her_ Maiden's voice. She tries and tries to get up, only managing to roll onto her stomach before she has to stop and catch her breath. Gods above, why was breathing suddenly so hard? She retches and tastes thick copper.

Yang crawls several lengths across the flagstones, the burning scrape against her knees strangely centering, letting her start trying to push something cohesive along that frail, threadbare link between her and Blake.

_Please answer me. Just...anything so I know you're okay._ Because she can't even begin to apologize enough for this; she knows what her last tantrum did to her partner, and this incident had put her off the charts.

The response she receives is more of a feeling than an actual reply, no words formed, only a tangible relief and fragility. There were fragments of something, sounds trying to be something more, but they're there and gone again. It's more than enough to make her push herself a little harder to get back on her feet. She's up and rocking on her heels in search of balance when she hear's someone cautiously calling out to her. Her head feels like it weighs a ton, but she manages; it's Glynda, and she greets her former professor with a lazy wave of her mechanical arm.

"Is Blake okay?" the brawler asks, never mind whether or not Glynda is close enough to hear.

"When I left the others, decidedly not." she spares the young woman the finer details, quite certain it wouldn't help matters. "Which leads me to ask, are you seriously hurt?"

"Kind of." her stomach clenches again. "But I've got to get to Blake."

"I imagined you would say that. Here, let me give you a hand."

"But I've already got two, ha-ha- _ow_ ." Gods above, that's really starting to  _hurt_ .

Glynda pulls one of Yang's arms across her shoulders, leaving one of her own hands free to defend herself if need be, and starts walking with her back the way she had come. "You're not fit to fight now, Miss Xiaolong."

Yang just responds with an awkward, forced noise.

"I'm putting you on the first ship out."

"Hah, lucky for me there aren't any ships out here,"

"On the contrary,"

Yang manages to turn her head and sees that Glynda it looking up, and her eyes follow, guided by the sound of passing engines to the drop ship above.

"Took them long enough." Glynda grumbles.

"I'm not getting on that, Goodwitch."

"I imagine you will if your father tells you to."

"My  _dad's_ here? What the hell is he-,"

"It's complicated." and that's all she says, encouraging Yang to pick up the pace and match her own.

 

The Atlesian ship touches down on the clearest patch of pavement the pilot can find, the hatch in its side sliding back before it completes the landing. A host of specialists spill out, weapons drawn with most of them charging headlong into the host of remaining Grimm. A smaller portion of the reinforcements keep close to the ship, giving those who had been here from the start a much needed reprieve. They were beginning to come back together, all of them save for those on the far side of the half-destroyed academy.

Tag steps off the ship with Winter beside her, she had been expecting a fight almost immediately, but is partly relieved to find a bunch of exhausted hunters instead. And she didn't expect for everyone to stop momentarily, figuratively dropping everything and staring when they realize she's there. Thankfully, no one asks for an explanation.

"The ship is leaving in five minutes to head back to base," Winter announces, "if anyone wishes to withdraw, now's the time."

"Can you make a special delivery to the nearest hospital?"

The elder Schnee's first reaction is to scowl at the sound of Qrow's voice, but the expression drops when she sees him, and sees Taiyang just behind him with Ruby in his arms.

"O-of course," she says with a nod, "we'll transport any wounded you have."

Qrow nods too, stepping aside so Tai can board. Not too far behind him, Weiss has gotten Blake on her feet, though she obviously struggles to heft her teammate's weight as the Faunus teeters unevenly. Without a second thought Tag moves towards her fellow Maidens, her heart clenching at the tired happiness on Weiss' face at the sight of her as she negotiates Blake into her arms. Immediately her magic stirs and starts to work, Tag muscling through a deep but brief burning in her skull.

"The Maidens need to stay," Maab declares. "I know you kids are battered up -by the way, good to have you back with us-," she nods in acknowledgment to Tag, "but we have to finish this. We'll fail without your help."

"I gathered." Tag thinks it strange to smile at a time like this, but she does it anyway. When she feels Blake stirring against her, starting to take back some of her own weight, Tag gestures for Weiss to come closer. She hates seeing her scraped and bloody like she is, but loves the embrace she receives.

"I'm so glad you're okay." the younger huntress whispers tightly.

"I'm sorry I worried you, I am, and I'll explain everything once there's time." Tag answers, tilting her head until it touches Weiss'. In the next instant, though she doesn't mean to, she happens to catch Billy's gaze -they're shocked and relieved and speechless- but doesn't say anything. Something else she simply didn't think there was time for.

After a moment Blake is standing under her own power again, only a little dazed, just in time for her Guardian to come shoving through a crowd of bodies to reach her. Yang wraps her partner up in her arms, tears rolling down her blood and ichor streaked face as she spouts countless apologies. Glynda reminds Yang that she needs medical attention and Yang almost responds with a punctuated "fuck you", but is stopped when Blake takes her face in both hands, the subtle gesture enough to garner the entirety of her attention.

"You have to go." Blake says softly, but with obvious effort. "But I'll come find you when it's over. I promise." Because she can feel Yang's anger-laced fear and it's awful.

"No, I can't," Yang's shaking her head, " _I_ have to keep you safe."

"But you need to stay alive, too. I'll be all right, I have all the-," whatever she would say is stopped, trapped between hers and Yang's lips as the brawler steals a demanding, desperate kiss. Like it's the last one she'll ever get.

"We're taking off in  _two minutes_ ,"

"Miss Xiaolong," Glynda nags.

_I want to punch her in the face_ . Yang voice ripples through the aether.  _Don't make me go._

_Please, Yang, you've done your part. I have to do mine. **I. Will. Come. Back.**_

Yang finally yields, stepping back and eventually turning away to board the ship where Taiyang is waiting for her, looking to loathe every step.

"Hey, wait for us!"

Gypsy breaks away from the group in a mad sprint when she sees her four daughters running towards them. She can't help but fuss over them, peppering them with questions, anything keep her from acknowledging the nasty burn on Trixie's back. She'll pull Jessica aside as the other girls get on the ship.

"What about your brother?"

She needs a moment to collect herself, catch her breath. "H-he, he was fine when I saw him last. B-but," she swallows hard, "something's  _wrong_ ."

"I know, darling," Gypsy hugs her. She can't imagine what Barren's presence feels like for the inexperienced Witch, so she tries to offer what comfort she can. "Now go and look after your sisters, we'll finish up here."

Jess swallows again and nods, doing as she's told. Gypsy then turns to her mother, somehow knowing she's right beside her without having to see her.

"I'm going, momma. I have to get to my boy."

"I won't stop you, the Atlesians can handle this." Maab concedes. " _And_ you're the closest thing we've got to a Fall Maiden, so there's little room to argue."

"And what are we supposed to  _do_ ?" Gypsy has to ask.

"Shove that black bitch back into her mirror. Let's move out!"

\---

The Grimm kept coming. However many were dispatched, that many get up again, sometimes doubling, sometimes commingling into an awful amalgamation of several that move as one. Barren kept restoring them out of nothing and pushing them harder and harder against the paltry number of young hunters. She does it consciously, with a strategic precision, keeping them separated and occupied so she might move as she sees fit -like the queen on a chess board.

And, at the moment, she sees fit to kill this boy because she's sick of him, of the blinding glow of his aura, and disgusted at his very existence in the same space that she inhabits. She knows there are more pressing things -like the crackling energy of a nearby Witch- and killing him will serve no greater purpose than to satisfy a selfish, gnawing want, but he simply.  _Must_ .  _**Die** _ .

Jaune tries to keep close to Nora, to keep himself between her and the white-skinned Grimm, but it's hard. His teammate darts from one skirmish to the next, following his orders to the letter and holding nothing back as she plows through Grimm like the force of nature that she is. Part of him wants to worry over her -over his entire team, to be truthful- but another part is telling him there's no need. In fact, its encouraging him to worry more so for himself as Barren continues a steady approach. He's shaking the remains of a smaller Ursa from his sword when the Mother Grimm suddenly lunges.

Reflexively his shield snaps to his shoulder and his body braces behind it, and he consciously peeks over the top edge of the slab of steel to keep his eyes on his opponent. Barren's form stretches across the space between them as if there's no bones or sinew in her body, and her talons do the same to come crashing into his shield as a collection of lethal barbs. The impact is jarring, shaking him painfully from head to toe, but he grounds himself with a pulse of aura and stays upright. In the next instant she's upon him, towering, and rears back her other clawed hand in preparation to swipe at him. He pulls away and drops, rolling to the side and pushing forward once he's on the balls of his feet. He closes the already small gap, swinging his shield upward to deflect her attack, and then follows through with a thrust of his sword. It goes through the middle of Barren's chest and out the other side, much to the shock of both parties. The eye in the middle of the Grimm's head bulges, glowing with fury in the instant before she responds.

Her claws open against his shield, ichor spiderwebbing across the white and gold of its face so she can grip it firmly, and in the same moment her other hand latches around his as it clutches his sword. Instinctively he tries to pull free, panic flickering across his sweaty face when he fails, and Jaune meets her searing gaze as she steadily pulls him in, the blade sinking deeper through her sternum. Then, before the young man fully processes what's happening, he feels his body jerking and then being hurled through the air. He hits the pavement hard, his brow cracking against concrete before he settles on his back with the clattering of his shield. His other hand feels empty, and he finds rampant panic somewhere in his current daze. Everything comes back to center a second later, when he hears the brief, sharp whistle of air that proceeds a shower of sparks and a lance of pain in his underarm. His head jerks to the side, almost looking over his shoulder to see Crocea Mors half buried in flagstone, the edge of it biting through his clothes and drawing blood. Somehow he knows it was meant to go in his back.

Barren contemplates the wound for a second, perhaps curious of something she's never had before, but seems to forget it when her flesh lattices over the opening to seal it. Lifting her gaze she sees the boy trying to retrieve his blade, looking to be exerting considerable effort to do so. She hurls her claws at him again, expecting the diamond-hard tips to rip through his soft body, and she audibly howls in disgust when that doesn't happen. Jaune pulls the sword free and turns at the last possible moment, bringing the blade from over his head to slice through the solidified ends of her talons. Repeating the same tactic with her other hand somehow yields the same result, and Jaune comes charging at her as she withdraws.

_**Son of a Witch! Charmed bastard!** _ And the curses are followed by a vicious shriek as she feels him closing in, his aura flashing bright and abrasive.

The nimble Grimm avoids the swings of his blade, looking for openings to strike, and her fury only grows as his Semblance intervenes to spare him lethal harm. Her talons bounce off of him, drawing a caustic veil of golden sparks that she shies away from. Barren then doubles her efforts, her fingers straightening and splicing together, looking to turn her entire arm into a solid black blade. She pushes passed his meager defense, the edge of her improvised weapon screeching against the steel of his breastplate and leaving behind a rugged mark like a scar. He answers with a little push of aura beneath his feet as he jumps, twisting at the waist to throw his elbow as hard as he can with the edge of it connecting with Barren's face. Though blinded with pain, she's able to return the courtesy with a hard swat of her other hand, sending Jaune flying.

 

Pyrrha can't recall a time when slaying Grimm was both so easy and so difficult. It's easy because it's natural, she was raised to do this, and it's difficult because the numbers never seem to lessen and she's borderline rushing herself; she and Ren are all but desperate to reach their partners. Every step forward, every inch of ground gained is quickly countered with hasty and staunch resistance that forces them to break even or struggle to maintain.

When she has enough space to breathe, Pyrrha calls to Ren before frantically gesturing for him to come towards her. Halfway there his face twists up in visible confusion as she slaps the front of her shield, though it clears up with her subsequent pointing finger up and over the wall of Grimm they've been hopelessly pushing against. Now he nods, watching and praying as his teammate crouches with her shield braced over her head to form a makeshift springboard. Ren's path banks to the side, allowing him to come around so he's facing the Grimm; once he's atop the shield he bends his knees and channels his aura to his heels before pushing off at the same time as Pyrrha. Pyrrha will watch him only a moment before wrapping her Semblance around herself and making a leap of her own, polarity pulling on her armor to give her the lift she needs to reach the far side.

There's a mental breath of relief when she sees Ren roll to safety, but that sensation quickly snaps taught again; the sight of the Mother Grimm, the knowledge of what she sees, pricks the still tender claw marks that streak Pyrrha's soul. The fallen champion simply isn't able to properly handle the riot of emotions that swamp her, unable to stay her own hand as she turns her sword over in her hand, blade menacingly downward, and then hurls it with all of her gathered momentum behind it. When she hits the ground, rolling to disperse the impact, the blade finds its mark as well.

Barren had turned, feeling an oppressive influence against her that was both familiar and alien. The remains of Manticore that had been returned to her body reacted to something faintly remembered, drawing her attention. The last thing she sees is a flicker of red followed by a bar of steely gray, and then nothing at all as the aged blade punches through her only functional eye. Barren's shrieks, wailing in agony on such a sharp registry that all the lesser Grimm -including those in distant Vale- suddenly freeze and then drop to the ground in one unanimous seizure with bulging eyes and frothing jaws. The Mother Grimm jerks and twists, clawed hands clutching helplessly upward as if to try and dislodge the weapon with no results. The young hunters' heads turn one way then another, almost in unison, watching anxiously and trying to fully decipher what fresh hell this is. But they don't get much of an opportunity as the smaller Grimm drop dead and dissolve when Barren goes suddenly quiet and still, looking like a scarecrow half hung on its post.

Now they all stare at the Mother Grimm, too anxious to move and waiting for the other shoe to drop -because they know it's coming. Finally they look at each other, panting and speechless: Nora's up but sagging just a little, her bright orange hair a bit on end from all the volts she's put out, Ren is helping Jaune to his feet, the Team Leader cradling his side just beneath his arm -that last blow might have taken out a rib- and Pyrrha keeps her fierce yet anxious eyes on Barren. Her hands shake at her sides, the only manifestation of the body-wide tremors she feels out of the mixture of fear and fury ripping through her. Like before, it takes her over for a split second, her Semblance flexing in a quick snap to snatch up the sword and pull it back to her hand. They all tense at the awful, sucking, wet sound the blade makes when its loose.

Barren's head drops back, her body bending at the waist and somehow managing to hang that way while her feet remain grounded, the exposed spine jutting upward through its opening. Black ichor drips from the vertical wound in her face, but, otherwise, there's nothing; though the hunters can't see that the injury is slowly - _so slowly_ \- mending itself. But they know it isn't over, they know damn good and well it couldn't possibly be this easy. They know that thing is going to start moving again, can almost sense the remaining seconds, and they pray that they're ready for it.

But it doesn't happen at all like they expect. The last hellish minutes of this desperate endeavor start off with a bang.

Once again the wind shifts around a hot, percussive wave, turning heads and slowing the strides of those still frantically trying to reach Team JNPR. And just as before, even in the same place, there is a new hemisphere of bright and roaring flames churning upward. It bubbles and then bursts, jumping upward from the flagstones to take flight -or so it appears. Tongues of flames and smoke coalesce into the discernible, albeit unstable shape of an immense bird. It heads for the tower, and this is what draws Barren back to full awareness and fury.

The Mother Grimm shrieks as she twists upright, her healed eye bulging and the veins around it pressing thickly against her skin. She runs, ignoring her most base instincts that cry in warning of the Witches and Maidens she can feel drawing too close too quickly. She completely disregards them and the young hunters she had meant to kill, abandons everything to retreat the way she came; all would be lost if she couldn't reach her mirror before that damned, fiery  _thing_ !

 

Weiss tears to the front of the pack once she realizes what it is that she senses; it's Barren, and the Grimm's presence fills her with an anger that manifests in the brilliant opal flashes of her eyes. Leading by the tip of her sword she jets across the plaza with a burst of frigid air and aura, threading between the members of Team JNPR with inhuman ease towards her target. But she isn't going so fast that she can't evade a wild swing of the Mother Grimm's claws, a well timed somersault enough to let the talons pass harmlessly beneath her. Once on her feet again she immediately pushes off, Myrtenaster finding its mark in the joint of Barren's shoulder. And she doesn't stop there; a full volley of flickering, precise strikes fill the Mother Grimm with puncture wounds that blossom with crystals of solid ice. Another swipe of Barren's claws has the Winter Maiden withdrawing, though the Grimm doesn't realize that she is far from yielding. When she gives chase -Barren's only option as the Maiden stands between her and the tower- Weiss responds with a pitch black glyph that sends the monster flying in the opposite direction.

Barren stretches her limbs to reach beneath her, her talons hooking into concrete to slow and eventually stop herself. As the Grimm pries loose of the cement, she feels both ankles wrapped up tightly and ripped out from under her. She falls with arms swinging wildly, ropes of ichor solidifying as they fly off her limbs towards her assailants at lethal velocity. Blake and Tag easily evade the retaliation, pulling back their weapons less the tethers be cut, and the shadowy blades carry on to crash and disperse against a wall of commingled auras. The Summer and Spring Maidens close in on Barren and she stands up, Tag swinging with a fist full of molten rock that crashes soundly atop the Grimm's skull, and the older Faunus is in and out of there in a flash. Blake sends out a trio of clones, each one pouncing and latching on to Barren in the seconds before they glow a bright orange and suddenly detonate. When the smoke clears, the Mother Grimm is still standing, but is obviously in incredible pain as she shrieks and staggers. Before Barren can recover, another glyph appears at her feet, white and wildly spinning before a pillar of ice manifests in an upward heave. Another mental scream shudders through the air before it's swallowed up by the frozen mass.

"Don't stop, crush her! _Break her down_!" Maab is screaming.

The ice begins to crack loudly as Barren writhes inside, her one eye glowing with hellfire just before her prison fractures and flies apart. Witches, hunters, and Maidens all scatter to avoid being crushed by frigid shrapnel, giving Barren the room she needs to think and react. Black slime pools around her feet, reaching outward until it moves in sharp spines in congress with the movement of her hands. A flex of dark energy sends the tar out in a jagged wave, a wall of thorns spreading as far as the Grimm wills it. Auras flare and rattle against countless impacts, but in the center of it all there is a flash of turquoise light and shattering sound that punches straight through. The ensuing impact is like a bomb going off, and the skeletal frame of Barren's attack disintegrates into scattering powder against the blast.

When the dust settles, Nora is the only one standing, residual magic arcing off her body as the others relax from their defensive reactions, and where Barren once was is now a stretching, pitch black scorch mark. Everything is suddenly quiet with an unsettling stillness, no one dares to move in fear of possibly setting off something else -something worse.

Maab lifts her head, ears flitting and gaze moving from one side to another. "Go." she says. "Get to the mirror before she can restore herself!"

The Maidens simply react and make way to the tower, Gypsy doing her best to catch up and having no idea what the hell she was supposed to do that a Maiden could not.

"Glynda," Maab calls, gesturing with her hand as she gets to her feet and scurries to the black stain on the flagstones. "Maybe you can bind her, then we can send her back where she came from."

Glynda only nods and follows her mother's direction, even though she feels the responsibility is too big even for her. She takes an earnest, desperate hold of her magic, pulling it up in a rush of cool static through her body. Her eyes begin to glow, and the makings of a ring of gold light begins to form on the ground. The air shifts when the circle solidifies, a breath of warmth, and now the light starts tracing Glynda's emblem on the pavement.

The incomplete seal suddenly shudders, waning.

_**YOU CAN'T STOP ME**_.

The ground jolts beneath their feet, setting many of them off balance. The scorch mark swells upwards, bubbling like the tar it once was, and it writhes to life, connecting all of its scattered pieces into a teeming mass. It ripples away from Glynda, escaping the dwindling seal in the blink of an eye, much too fast for anyone to react.

Barren refused the yield. She did not wait countless centuries, tugging at the threads of fate to come to this moment, just to admit defeat. Let those damnable Maidens reach the mirror, so be it; she means to take another host, to put a human shield between herself and destruction, counting on her foes' pitiful humanity to stay their hands. The Mother Grimm's consciousness travels through the threads of molten shadow that spreads across the ground, following the entrails of magic left behind by the incredible force that reduced her to dust. She went where the power was, the power of nature gone mad and an intact soul.

Pyrrha can sense it happening and, though she doesn't know it, so does Jaune. They both feel it as a cold clutch of dread around their hearts, and they react in almost uncanny tandem. The two young hunters turn -drawing Ren's eyes as well- just in time to see Barren erupt from the ground in a shower of ichor, half formed with one bulging, vicious eye and reaching with gelatinous claws towards Nora. The Storm Witch has her back to the beast and can't react fast enough, the viscous Grimm collapsing over her. Nora stumbles under the weight, dropping her hammer to reach back and grab the awful thing she can't see. Her fingers hook into the crawling mire gathering around her shoulders and sparks start jumping along her arms to her hands. Magic surges with a sharp _CRACK_ , the Grimm screaming but refusing to let go as its body begins to jerk back into something solid. That awful sound is joined by Nora's own cry of pain; she can feel Barren trying to get inside of her, frigid pins and needles pushing through her skin and turning her brilliant magic black.

Her teammates are closest, and they are the first to move to Nora's aid, sprinting towards her. Jaune's thoughts are a blur in his skull, countless things trying to shoulder to the front at once. He had to do something; his mind is half crippled by a gut-wrenching fear, but he has the clarity to know that he as to do _something_. He looks to his left, seeing Ren and Pyrrha looking just as terrified as he is, and then he snaps back to center. Nora screams again, and he watches as the whites of her eyes start going dark. In that instant he realizes what he's truly afraid of, but it doesn't hinder him. It actually brings his focus together.

"Keep it occupied, I have an idea,"

No time to answer or argue, Ren and Pyrrha only nod, partly watching as their Team Leader breaks away to the side, his shield tight to his shoulder -perhaps unconsciously covering up how he still cradles his tender ribs beneath it. Watching him go threatens to tear Pyrrha's resolve out from under her, but a hard swallow keeps her stable. She trusts him. She has to.

Jaune has to hustle to make any gains on them, he needs to break ahead if he was going to pull this off. The timing needed to be perfect or it might all go to shit. He swallows the thickness in his throat and pumps his legs that much harder, hoping he'll be fast enough. He aims for Barren's side, chancing to jump over a root of fleshy darkness to get behind the Mother Grimm; with a shocked squeak he twists to cover himself with his shield when a spike of the ichor solidifies and tries to run him through as he passes. There's enough force behind it that it sends him tumbling through the air, head over heels until he smacks to the pavement. He's quick to stop himself and scramble to his feet, too quick to care about his shield and sword lying on the ground. He won't need them for this.

He's praying as his long strides bring him closer and closer to Barren, praying that this works and that it'll be enough. He prays that he can save Nora and that he'll be forgiven if everything goes horribly wrong. Not knowing whether or not Pyrrha and Ren are where they need to be, he follows through with his plan that he suddenly realizes is ludicrous. Still Jaune pulls on his Semblance with everything he's got, maybe even more than that, and it flares to life as he puts his arms around the amorphous frame of Barren's body, his eyes screwing shut as he tenses from head to toe. He feels his aura flex, feels the power push outward and then rip back inwards, collapsing into him with enough force to knock him off his feet. For a moment he lies there on his side, just waiting for the world to stop spinning when he finally opens his eyes.

Jaune rolls on his back when encouraged by a hand on his shoulder, swallowing hard at the way his stomach flips at the motion. He blinks up at whoever is hovering over him, glad to find Pyrrha once his vision clears. Though he isn't so glad about the obvious worry creasing her brow.

"Are you all right?"

He can't respond right away, something getting lost in translation between his brain and his mouth. Instead he just nods and tries to sit up. She's still talking to him but he can barely make it out, feeling a heavy, hot pressure mounting in his ears. Then, when he tries to stand and only manages to teeter on his knees, falling to brace on his palms, he realizes he's not all right. Not at all. His stomach twists again and he retches hard, unable to see through the pain as a thick, blood laced blackness comes spilling out of his mouth.

 

 

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, and I know I said this chapter would close up a lot of things. Guess I got too caught up in telling the story to actually tell the damn story. It happens. Anyway, next chapter will most definitely finish up the climax, and then I can finally get on to the sweet Arkos I've been promising you all since the beginning. Thanks again for being so patient, and I appreciate the support you all have given me.

 


	62. Chapter Sixty-One

Nora and Barren had been ripped apart by a wash of golden light that was there and gone again in an instant, and, somehow, the Mother Grimm disappeared without a trace along with it. Nora stumbled forward, her eyes rolling back as her consciousness blinks away, and Ren was just able to catch her before she fell. He shook her, calling her name through an impossibly tight throat as he dropped carefully to his knees. At the same time, Pyrrha closed the distance between her and Jaune in only a few strides, her heart hammering within her ribs as she watched him just lying there. She'll remember the relief she felt to see him move for the rest of her life, just like she'll remember the joy in her heart when she asked "Are you all right?" and he nodded as he tried to get up. And she'll remember just how brief those feelings were, cut down in cold blood after only a few seconds, when she watched the wretched blossom of black ooze form on the pavement under him.

Pyrrha went rigid, found herself paralyzed and powerless as Jaune started making awful, heaving sounds and rolled onto his back again, his body tightening around his stomach. He coughs up another clot of darkness and she still can't move, even as she faintly realizes that the slime is intermingled with his blood. Her mind is suddenly full of flickering flashbacks, and she is too afraid to get close to him in spite of the agony he's in; a part of her knows what's happening, and knows that if she takes another step that she risks being infected again. That's just too much, even for the Invincible Girl.

Thankfully Glynda and Maab are willing to take that chance, sparing not a moment's thought as the two Witches weave around the young hunters to reach him.

"Gods have mercy," Maad hisses, "what has he done?" She looks to her daughter and doesn't at all like how the color seems to have left her face. "Glynda?"

"He...I don't know how," she swallows, "he's taken Barren into himself."

As if to drive home Glynda's conclusion, Jaune's body suddenly bows upward with a drawn out, guttural scream. When his frame reaches the extremes of its range of motion, it jerks and there's a loud snap of something unseen before he slaps back to the ground. Liquid darkness stripes his face, seeping ichor like blood; more such marks criss-cross his body, eventually bleeding through his clothes and smearing the cement beneath him. There's one large wound along the column of his throat, and between the lapels of skin is Barren's burning eye trying to push through.

"There's no way for me to separate them, he's already too fragile." Glynda says, shaking her head, looking as helpless as she feels.

"We have to get him to the mirror, it's the only way to stop this." Maab takes a step back, one of her hands igniting with foxfire just before she swings her arm in a wide, horizontal arc. It jumps to the ground and spreads, rising up on four legs to form a large fox familiar that comes to her side. Maab jumps astride its neck, then gestures for someone -anyone- to lift Jaune up to her. Billy hurries to fill her demand, clearly shocked and worried over his quickly worsening state. "Hold on," they whisper, "you're strong, you can make it."

"Get these other kids out of here, Glynda, there's nothing more for them to do."

"But, mother,"

"I mean it." Maab dips her chin, her gaze somehow intensifying as she pulls her grandson across her lap. "They're not fit to fight, so take them somewhere safe. Do as I say." and she doesn't leave room for argument, the fox familiar taking off towards the tower with a gust of wind behind it.

Glynda scowls, but swallows her frustration to make room for practicality. There's still work to be done. "Come, let's head back to other side of the school, I'll arrange extraction for us there."

"Why not just wait here?" Billy asks.

"Whatever is about to happen," she looks to the top of the tower, feeling herself tense, "I don't want any ships too close to this, especially if we happen to be on it."

"Fair enough." they nod once, then step over to Ren to help him stand up, assuring him that everything is going to be all right.

Pyrrha watched it all, but hardly a scrap of the last few minutes solidifies in her mind. She hasn't moved, forgotten to a point that she is even here, seemingly lost in her own head as it all unfolded around her. Numb.

"Miss Nikos,"

She blinks, snapping to attention and reflexively moving out from under Glynda's hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

"I...y-yes, yes," she nods, "I'm sorry."

"No apologies necessary, it happens to the best of us. Can you keep it together long enough for us to get out of here?"

"Yes." no hesitation. "Let's go."

\---

Weiss, Blake, Tag, and Gypsy had no idea what would be waiting for them at the top of the tower, but whatever they could have imagined wouldn't have come close to what they found.

Unaware of the events unfolding below with the Mother Grimm, the Maidens and their supporting Witch quickly scaled the tower with glyphs and bursts of aura, reaching the apex of the structure in mere seconds. The four of them were ready for a fight, their intent clear in the way they spread out and line up around the edge of the platform with weapons poised, but the tension is quick to morph into bewilderment when they comprehend what they see.

Only one of them had been aware of Cinder Fall's demise, yet all four are under the distinct notion that she should not be here. Seeing her is an affront to their sense of reality, and her presence immediately sets them on edge even as the amber eyed Maiden crouches over Emerald's body. Stranger still is the huge, blue-skinned Faunus that puts herself resolutely between them and Cinder. Weiss takes a reactionary step forward, Myrtenaster raised, but Blake immediately puts out her hand, shaking her head when their gazes meet. Gypsy saw it too and assured the heiress that she's not tall enough to ride that ride.

"Maidens, if you are here to help, then help," Seren says, recognizing the feel of her mother's life energy, "but you'll not lay a hand on my sister."

The four of them make the same face, disbelieving, a look that doubles over when Cinder lifts her eyes, meeting each of them with a very human pain and the makings of tears. Cinder Fall, _crying_? That had to be the most impossible thing they had seen all day.

"Where is Barren?" the Dragon Faunus demands their attention again.

None of them can offer an answer before a sharp gust of wind erupts from below, a whistling fanfare to the appearance of Maab astride her familiar. This time it's Gypsy who moves, taking a reactionary step towards her mother, but then breaks into a frantic sprint, her ears snapping back against her hair when she fully realizes why Maab is here in the first place. The Fox Faunus is more than willing to hand Jaune off to his mother, her old heart clenching at the panic and wide-eyed fear on Gypsy's face.

"What have you done, you foolish boy? _Jaune_!" But part of her knows she won't get an answer, not when he just hangs limp in her arms, his skin white and streaked in black, and his eyes like aimless jet marbles. Not when it looks and feels like there's something writhing beneath his skin. "He's...he can't be dead, momma,"

"No, dear, not quite yet."

Tag appears over Gypsy's shoulder, along with the other Maidens. "Can't I do something?"

"Best not, lest that thing get a chance to jump from him to you, and that's a misstep we can ill afford." Maab turns away, her familiar dissipating that she might see passed it. "Lady Seren,"

"Aye?"

"I have your Grimm, what say you put her back in her place?"

Seren approaches them in a collection of long strides. "With pleas-...what is this?" Big silver eyes blink, expecting an answer from any one of them. "Is the beast _inside_ him?" Still Seren watches, waiting for some kind of response. Then "I can't guarantee his life."

"If that's the case," Maab shrugs.

"No, we find another way,"

"It may already be too late to save him,dear." and while it isn't obvious by her tone or the stony front she puts off, Maab is loathe to say it out loud. "But it isn't too late for Remnant."

" _I won't let you kill my son_!" Gypsy clutches him closer, even as he chokes and sputters a clot of ichor onto her shirt.

"We don't have a choice!" Maab bites back, ears flat and blunt fangs bared. "This is the only chance _any of us_ have! I don't want to lose him either, but I'm _begging you_ ," and for once, she doesn't have the nerve to say what she means. How on earth do you convince a mother to sacrifice their child?

"I cannot promise he'll survive, but I can promise to do everything I can that he might,"

Gypsy looks up at Seren bitterly, her eyes thinned to a razor's edge with a piercing fury. She doesn't want to agree, it goes against everything maternal about her down to the marrow of her bones. She doesn't want to, but knows she has to, just as she knows she doesn't have to like doing it. "What do you need from me?"

"Bring him to the mirror. You Maidens come too." and as Seren turns away, marching back towards the stretch of pitch glass, she calls to her sister. "Vatra, it's time to end this."

Cinder responds because that is her name, her birth name that was lost when her soul was split. She's reluctant to leave Emerald, knowing she's still so frail and could die, but knows that this mess needed to be done. She'll join Seren on the rim of the mirror, the other Maidens across from her to complete a circle, and Gypsy carries Jaune to lay him in the middle of the glass. She has to force herself to move when Seren tells her to step back, and she goes to stand beside her mother.

"Be ready; once I've put Barren back inside the mirror, all four of you need to pour what magic you have into it. She'll be sealed away and then we can purify it." Seren watches all four of them nod, trusting that they understand, and then draws her scythe. Raising the blade over her head, she quickly brings it down, consciously ignoring Gypsy's scream as she aims for the human boy's chest. The blade makes it's mark, but doesn't pass through; it collides in a shower of platinum sparks, silver magic meeting a golden shield of aura. The ancient Faunus tries funneling more power through the blade, only to meet more stout, unconscious resistance.

"Barren's using his Semblance to protect herself!" Tag cries.

"No, it was his Semblance that trapped her in the first place, it must still be active in order to keep her bound." Maab corrects, hoping against hope that she's right. "He needs to let her go before she kills him."

"How do we-,"

"Jaune Arc, you drop your aura _this_ . _Instant_!" Gypsy demands, trying her hardest to throw her most maternal voice through the tightness in her throat.

The golden shimmer disappears, and the scythe pushes through. Though Gypsy immediately wishes she hadn't said a damn thing as she watches the blade tear into her son's body and hears his terrible scream of pain. It doesn't even sound like him, and it rings through the air with the intensity of nails on a chalkboard.

Black sludge gushes from his mouth as his body bends and spasms around the blade, with more running from his eyes, nose and ears. The furious eye peering through the wound in his neck trembles, the slitted iris fluxing madly as silver magic courses through Barren's already unsuitable host. Jaune writhes, his hands clutching at the scythe as if trying to pull it loose, but Seren is much too strong to give up even an inch.

"Get ready to move him!"

Maab and Gypsy are both ready, there in an instant with open arms. The Maidens are ready as well, their eyes aglow with magic.

"Now!"

Just as Seren pulls back her scythe, Maab and Gypsy lift Jaune up and carry him away, far from the mirror. There Maab summons her familiar to coil around them, to shield them from whatever is coming next while Gypsy funnels what aura she has left into Jaune's still limp body. All the while she prays, not caring that everyone could hear her sobbing for the gods to spare her son.

The scythe ripped Barren loose, the Mother Grimm only able to manifest as a teeming nest of shadows and half formed limbs that resembled nothing like they were before. The few moments it inhabited Jaune's body was long enough for his life force -the Witch in him- to begin eating away at it. The ancient menace was nearly liquified, and now it clings fiercely to Seren's weapon in spite of how the silver burns.

Seren swings high over her head and brings the blade back to the mirror, putting it through the glass without tarnishing the surface in the least, and hurling the Mother Grimm back into the darkness on the other side. An echoing shriek rattles the tower, and then steadily begins to fade as Barren descends deeper into the shadows. Seren then hurries off the mirror to join her sister, nodding to her. The air around the tower shudders and suddenly stills as the joint power of the four Maidens is unleashed.

The edges of the mirror begin to churn with light and color, starting as only a frail looking, crystalline glimmer that begins to grow. More screaming erupts from the glass as the color intensifies and begins to encroach on the dark face of the focus, and Barren -fully reformed- rises up against the glass. The Mother Grimm claws and wails in vicious desperation, frantic and unable to stop as the color only grows and surrounds her. She knows there is no escape now, but still she fights as that is the way of Grimm -to death and destruction. She fights until the the light swallows her up, and the last visible part of her is that furious, hellish eye.

The rainbow of colors begins to spiral towards the center, blurring together in a dizzying mess until it washes completely, flawlessly white. But that starts to fade as well, collapsing inward and leaving transparent glass in its wake, eventually leaving what looks like nothing more than an ordinary pane of glass. Looking through it reveals the recess in the floor beneath it, which is just a sheet of steel. When the magic resolves it retreats back to its respective Maidens, lifting the incredible strain the four of them were under. Blake buckles to her knees, already so mentally taxed, but when Weiss kneels beside her she assures her teammate that she's all right. Tag wobbles on her feet briefly, but is able to stay upright.

Cinder's eyes still burn like molten gold, though the embers of Autumn have left her gaze, and her hands work in circles as she calls on her Semblance. The steel beneath their feet groans and then jolts as the mirror is pulled loose of its nest and lifted into the air. With a flick of her wrists and a flare of her fingers, the mirror warps and collapses in on itself, twisting into a sphere that's no larger than a melon. Cinder beckons it silently, willing the relic into Seren's waiting hands.

"It's done." the Dragon Faunus exhales, looking at the sphere in awe. "It's finally done."

"I have another mirror. It should be destroyed." Cinder adds, speaking without really thinking.

"Show me."

"Wait," Weiss snaps to her feet, Myrtenaster still well within her grasp.

Cinder tenses, looking genuinely afraid.

"Look what you've done, the destruction you've caused," her eyes still glimmer with opal fractals, a flickering anger, "what makes you think you just get to leave?"

"And look at what she has done to _spare_ this place, to spare the world." Seren intervenes.

"She's a _murderer_."

Seren looks at her sister quizzically at first, but then she processes the guilt and shame on Cinder's face and realizes that the Winter Maiden isn't just throwing wild accusations. Her massive body expands and contracts with a saddened sigh of resignation, and then she looks back at the much smaller human. "Grant us this one reprieve, you'll get no more trouble from her. I swear."

"I don't even know you." Weiss counters.

"A Witch's word is her bond, Miss Schnee." Maab says, having stepped through her familiar to stand near the edge of where the mirror once was. "Breaking a promise like that could strip her of her magic, or worse. You can trust her. And we have more pressing things to worry about anyhow." and she gives a brief glance over her shoulder to her grandson; looks like he still hasn't moved.

Weiss looks at Maab and then back at Cinder, her gaze still sharp. It's a look that clearly telegraphs the young huntress' hope that they never cross paths again. Eventually she will sheath her blade, turning her attention to Blake when she can't stand looking at Cinder another second.

"Thank you." Cinder croaks, receiving no response. She touches Seren's arm to get her attention. "Let's go." She'll gesture for Seren to give her the orb, freeing up her sister's hands to gather Emerald up. She wasn't about to leave her Guardian here, not like this.

"Wait, please,"

Cinder doesn't know what to expect when Tag approaches her, barely recognizing the Otter and certainly not anticipating her kind demeanor.

"Can I help? At least let me try,"

Uncertain, Cinder looks to Seren, who simply nods and steps around her. The Fall Maiden watches in mild confusion as Tag puts her hands on her, confusion that morphs to awe at the warm wash of magic and the gentle green glow that envelopes the Spring Maiden's hands. She feels humbled, knowing she doesn't deserve such generosity, but also knows that Emerald _does_.

After a moment the magic fades. "I did what I could. It might take some time for her to wake up."

"Thank you." Cinder says without hesitation, though in the back of her mind showing gratitude feels unfamiliar.

"You can thank me by doing right by the others too." Tag replies knowingly, not having forgotten Mercury and hoping Cinder hadn't either.

"Let's be on, sister."

Cinder only nods, following Seren to the edge of the tower only to disappear over the side. The only trace of them is flash of light, then nothing at all.

 

"Please, baby," Gypsy weeps, "please answer me." She has Jaune's head against her chest, crying into his mussed hair and still pouring all the aura she can spare into him. Thankfully he's still breathing, the scythe having left no wound, but he has yet to do anything else to indicate he's alive. And he still bleeds from the splits in his skin, his clothes soaked, and more still runs down his face from his eyes, nose and mouth. It's minimal, but she can't tell that for all the blood already on him.

Tag gets to them as quick as she can, fatigue finally showing itself in her stiff strides and how jerking her movements are as she kneels across from Gypsy. She'll add her magic to the Witch's own, forming a solid thread between them and Jaune. Tag groans under the vibrations of pain that come from his end, and his mother hides whatever discomfort she feels by holding him that much closer.

After a moment Jaune will take a deep breath, the exhale wet and wheezing, and his Adam's Apple bobs with a hard swallow. A tight, incoherent noise inches out of him, his mouth unmoving and muffling whatever words he was striving for.

"Keep trying, Jaune, come back to us." Gypsy pleads, receiving another garbled response almost immediately. "One more time,"

"...P-Pyrrha."

"Your team made it out, grandson," Maab says, hoping he can hear, "and I'm sure they'd like to know that you did the same." and she nods as she looks down on him, catching the faintest glimmer of his eyes and smiling proudly. "He needs a proper doctor, Gypsy, and we need a ship."

"Right," she sniffles, visibly relieved. "Anyone got a scroll?"

"I'm calling Winter now." Weiss answers. The conversation between the sisters are the only words for a time, the almost quiet a welcomed change from the chaos of battle. "She's on her way, should only be a few minutes."

"Good," Gypsy nods. "A little longer, Jaune, just hold on a little longer." and she kisses his clammy forehead, overjoyed to see him respond with the faintest smile.

 

_(--)_

Pyrrha was still numb when the ship touched down on the hospital helipad, still in a sort of shock long after everyone had been rushed off of the drop ship and inside. But not so far gone that she doesn't feel the shift in the air, or doesn't notice how Nevermore suddenly start dropping out of the sky over Vale. She and Glynda watch as it happens, the huge Grimm abruptly keeling over mid-flight and dissipating before they hit the ground. The sky is littered with their ashes, brushed aside by a gust of wind that's there and gone again. The same thing was happening down in the streets; the Grimm were disappearing, leaving behind a legion of confused but grateful hunters.

But Pyrrha felt no relief, no happiness over the apparent miracle. She can't feel anything at all, or, at the very least, her brain isn't allowing her to for her own good.

Glynda helped her inside, saying she should get herself checked out for safety's sake before ducking back out onto the helipad to board Winter's ship one last time. Pyrrha said nothing, no wishes for good luck or safe return, and just went on into the harried halls of the hospital. In a startlingly uncharacteristic way, Ren just calls for help until someone responds to him; he's beside himself and can't comprehend the idea of doing more than that, and he still can't make his mouth work properly when he is trying to explain what's wrong with Nora when someone finally approaches him.

Then, when he was gone, it was just her and Billy standing stupidly in the middle of the stark white corridor, busy people bustling around them.

"Let's find someplace quiet," they suggested, "not much for us to do now."

Still numb from the neck up, she just nodded and followed the pull of the big hand on her shoulder.

The two of them eventually found an empty waiting room, occupying chairs on complete opposite ends of the desolate space. Billy sits heavily, the chair creaking under their weight and making them pause, but they relax in time, shouldering their way out of the holsters to set their axes on the floor. Pyrrha watches them as they look themselves over, seeming to marvel at the amount of Grimm gore plastered all over them. One big palm pulls down their face, coming back sweaty and slimy, and they unceremoniously wipe it on their shirt. Seeing as there was no helping it now, be it for lack of convenience or energy, Billy resigns to settle in and tip back their head with their eyes shut.

Pyrrha watches them a moment more before shrugging and regarding the empty chair in front of her. With unconscious care she finally releases the shield from her arm and props it, along with the sword, against the next chair over. Then, in a way that could be called mechanical, she begins to unfasten each piece of armor, one by one, clasp by clasp. Shedding her huntress' skin to be human again. And it's now that the sense of isolation starts creeping over her, and after that, everything else.

Isolation. Her team is scattered across Vale, or it feels that way, like they're miles apart and lost. Then she feels vulnerable, and then fragile as the bracers come off her arms and she starts working out of the chain shirt. This time the metal rings catch in her hair, sparking a volatile pocket of frustration in her guts that flares for a split second, tempting her to just rip it off and hair be damned. She swallows it down, carefully maneuvering out of it and letting it drop with less care to the floor. Pyrrha removes her coronet as well, unconsciously disgusted by the weight of it.

Looking down she remembers that she's still wearing Jaune's hoodie and is suddenly all too aware of his absence. Her brain is letting her feel that now, all of it at once, and it manifests throughout her body as a slowly building tension. She remembers watching him writhing on the ground, hearing him scream and, in a way, feeling his pain, and it makes her hug herself as her face twists into an ugly grimace. Her fingers hook into the fabric around her upper arms and her body bends, then her ribs jump with a sharp gasp as she fights back an impending chain of sobs. Tears burn her eyes behind screwed-tight lids and scald her cheeks as they roll towards her jawline.

Without thinking she climbs into a chair, tucking her legs up to her chest and stretching the plentiful excess of the hoodie over them. She feels cold and it's making her muscles ache, at least that's what she tells herself so she doesn't have to accept that it's the pain of feeling making her sore. She presses her face into her knees and reaches up to pull the hood over her head, wholly concealing herself that she might ride out her anguish in some sort of peace.

Everything hurts because she still isn't used to having feelings, hurts because what she feels now is too much, and because she's just too damn full of _everything._ What was she supposed to do with it? And all by herself? All she can think to do is cry.

It feels like hours creep by in the suffocatingly quiet room, when in truth it might be a fraction of that; however long, it's enough for Billy to fall asleep -as to how is a mystery, perhaps a perk of getting old- and for Pyrrha to fully purge herself and all but collapse into a sort of zero state. Her brain isn't processing anything more than the bare essential tasks of living, bogged down by fatigue and a lack of battle born adrenaline to keep it alert. Still tucked in like a turtle in its shell, Pyrrha shifts in the chair to her side, her body in need of a different position to lay. Though this new arrangement doesn't do much to help her relax, and for a moment she is envious of Billy's ability to shut everything out and shut down.

Being so still becomes frustrating for her after a while, and without much thought she stands up, arms still tight about herself as she looks around the room as if seeing it for the first time. In a way that's partly accurate, because she is finally aware of the water cooler that she didn't notice before that's hugging the wall, and she unknowingly scowls at it when she becomes aware of how dry her mouth is. With uneasy movements Pyrrha approaches, pulling a paper cup from the cylinder and filling it to the rim. The water is colder than expected, making her wince, but after the first sip she chugs the rest. She'll do it four more times, sucking down water until she's panting and her stomach clenches with a little pain. She crushes the cup in her hand before dropping it in the small plastic bin at the base of the cooler, and then her head clips towards the movement she catches in the corner of her eye.

"Ah, here you are," at first it's only Tag's head that comes through the small opening in the door, but she smoothly brings in the rest of her body, appearing to try to be quiet. "I was afraid I'd never find you; I started asking around for you and people looked at me like I grew an extra head."

"That happens when people think you're dead." Pyrrha replies flatly.

"Ah, I suppose that's fair."

"Billy's asleep."

"That's just as well, I'll get to that in due time." because a part of her still isn't ready for that conversation. "I was looking for you because I wanted a chance to talk, just the two of us. I owe you an explanation as well as an apology...for what it's worth."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's sit," she gestures back to the line of chairs, worrying only a little of how Pyrrha hesitates. "Or not?"

Pyrrha has to consciously loosen herself up just to walk the few steps back to her seat, and with each stride she tries to ground herself. She sits, tucking herself together again but not nearly as tightly as before, her legs only coming up underneath her instead of bracing her chest. Tag wants to sit next to her, she wants to be close enough to offer comfort or something of the like, but gets the feeling that was either unneeded or unwanted, and decides to occupy a space that puts a chair between them.

"Are the others okay?" Pyrrha asks, the quiet having gone too long for her liking.

"I believe they will be, yes." Tag nods. "Nora was awake and talking when I came to find you."

"Jaune?"

The Faunus hesitates, wanting to be careful about her answer. Her heart clenches at the look on Pyrrha's face when she lifts her dark eyes to her, the unmasked fatigue and vulnerability. "He's getting the help he needs. If it's a comfort to you, he said your name several times before we brought him in."

Pyrrha feels a rush of warmth in her face and her heart flutters a little. "After what he went through...he was probably just confused."

Tag just smiles and nods, though she doesn't believe that for a second. "But, to the crux of the matter," she shifts, uncomfortable, "for starters, I'm sorry. I did an awful thing and it was wrong of me."

"You mean giving me your powers?"

"If you want to put it simply. Now, I'm not trying to excuse myself, but I only wanted to help you. When Cinder pulled the Lion out of your body...I was afraid of what would happen to you. I just reacted." the older woman shrugs. "My Semblance allows my consciousness to leave my body. With the help of my magic, I can share a body with someone else. If there was a chance that Cinder would kill you, I just wanted to spare you if I could."

"And you did." and she wants to say thank you, but stops herself.

"But I shouldn't have stayed. I didn't have your consent and it was _wrong_." Tag scowls, covering her face with one hand in shame. "There's no excuse."

"So why did you do it?"

"I thought it was our best chance to stop Cinder; because I was under the understanding that the only way to do that was to kill her, I was afraid my compulsion would get in the way, so I...stayed put to help you as best I could." because between the two of them, with Tag's experience, and Pyrrha's short term exposure to the Spring Maiden's magic, they could do whatever was necessary. "I'm sorry."

Pyrrha takes a breath, answering after a moment. "It worked out. You stopped her, didn't you?"

"For all intents and purposes."

"Then it's all right."

"Except it isn't." Tag counters gently, looking wholly confused by the young woman's reaction. "I took your body, I'm no better than Barren in that respect."

Maybe, Pyrrha thinks, but she knows it's pointless to debate at this point; it's all in the past and there is no changing it. "We were able to accomplish our goal, that's the important thing. More so that lives might have been spared."

And for a long while Tag just stares at her, her feelings toeing an unsteady line of sympathy and confusion. Then she smiles again with a quiet chuckle. "Your friends were right about you. You _easily_ have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I've ever met."

Part of Pyrrha wants to feel proud, another part of her feels bitter. A big heart, perhaps, but regardless of its actual size, the fallen champion considers it might be time to be more covetous of it, make sure she still has a little of it for herself to keep.

"You should go find them, be with them now that there's time. I think it would do you good."

The younger huntress looks down at the floor, then turns her head to look towards the door. "Maybe." she exhales. "...I want to go home."

"I think that would do you good, too, and the rest of us for that matter." And she's glad to see Pyrrha stand up after a few seconds, hugging herself as she makes her way out of the room, pausing in the doorway long enough to take a bracing breath before stepping into the now quiet hallway.

Tag remains in still silence, trying and failing to ignore the near three-hundred pound Bison in the room. She knows she could just walk out. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be possible without Billy ever knowing she was here, and her doubt and injured heart are telling her to do just that. But then she looks at them, watches them sleep for a minute or two, and remembers how much she wants to forgive them. She thinks back to the last time she heard their voice, a message left on her scroll, her mind lingering on their honest attempt at an apology. Tag _wants_ to forgive them, and, in a perfect world, take them back as her Guardian. But is that what _they_ wanted? Even after all this? Or did they just want her forgiveness?

Only one way to know.

It's an effort, and not just because she's mentally exhausted, but she rises from her chair with a restrained groan. With no visible hurry Tag makes her way across the floor to where her fellow Faunus sleeps, just standing in front of them for a spell. She swallows the thickness in her throat and takes another breath, then reaches out to curl her much smaller hand around what she can of theirs. Billy doesn't stir at all and, for some reason, Tag only smiles to herself.

She shakes their hand a little. "Wake up, you stubborn old thing."

Billy's chest rises suddenly, coupled with a little grunt, and at first it looks like they might just settle back in, but another shake of their hand convinces them to attempt opening their eyes and have a look. They fixate on Tag's wrist, then their eyes steadily widen as they follow the line of her arm up to her shoulder, and finally to her face. Their sleep-addled brain honestly didn't know what to expect, not so soon after waking, but chances are it wasn't her. They just stare, their breathing suddenly shortened, and then they scramble out of the chair in one rushed movement. Billy drops to their knees in front of her, and now it's Tag's turn to look surprised.

"Are you all right?" they ask, looking up at her. Their hands drift in the air at their sides, clearly wanting to hold something.

When the mild shock passes, all the Maiden can do is smile softly down on them. "I'm fine. You?"

"Doesn't matter." they shake their head. "You're safe, that's all I care about."

Her smile widens as her heart clenches. "And _I_ care about that tired heart of yours."

Billy's brow furrows and they withdraw, looking to deflate when they tuck their chin. "You shouldn't. After the things I've said, the fool I've been...I'm so sorry." Before now they knew they had been wrong, knew that from the beginning they should have begged Tag's forgiveness and asked for a second chance. But now, having come so close to losing her -or feeling like they had- they're more than certain she was just too precious to give up for the sake of traditional superstitions. Even the death of Manticore wasn't enough to satisfy them; Billy loved her, needed her, but now they fear it might be too late.

Tag's smile fades, her features darkening as her brow gently knits with a sort of worry. She reaches down, her hands forming to Billy's jaw line that she might lift their chin. She wants them to look her in the eye. "Is forgiveness all you want?"

"If you see fit, though I don't deserve it."

"But is that all?"

"I would be your Guardian again, should you pity me enough to let me try."

"And?"

"I," Billy swallows, a scapegoat for their nervous hesitation. "...Let me marry you."

Her response is a quiet gasp, leaving her unable to speak.

"I don't care what it takes; from this moment on all you have to do is ask, demand anything of me and you will have it." their hands have a found a place now, having moved without a thought to settle on her hips.

"B-be my Guardian," Tag manages. There's a little doubt in her that makes her feel like she's calling their bluff instead of accepting their promise.

"To the day I die." They readily reply.

"Make a home with me?"

"I will build it with my own two hands, wherever you wish."

"...Children?"

"How many would make you happy?" because they were willing to give her a hundred if she but asked.

Tag is smiling again, and laughs curtly to cover up the sound of tears rising in her throat. She strokes their cheek with the back of one hand. "Can I _finally_ kiss you?"

Billy blinks up at her, looking a bit startled until it clicks in their head what she's really asking about. They had made that promise _weeks_ ago, and they had been much too focused on other -less important- things to keep it until now. _Nature's grace, what an ass I've been_. "I beg you, please."

In the next instant she joins them on her knees, still holding their face in her hands as she pulls them in without reservation or apology. They kiss like they've been doing it for ever, their lips joining with an easy familiarity after a brief misstep of clumsy enthusiasm. Billy pulls her flush against their body as their incredible arms cinch around her, and they smile against Tag's lips at the feel of her tail curling about their leg. If only they could just disappear into each other.

And somehow, by some strange twist of magic, Tag's mark has reappeared in its proper place on Billy's forearm.

 

 

Author's Note:  Seemed like the best and worst place to end this chapter, but when I tried to finish it up like I initially wanted to, it didn't fit right. We'll be getting right back with Pyrrha and the kids starting next chapter, and don't worry, I will go into deeper explanation as to what the hell happened with Cinder. I also want to do a chapter that's nothing but Pyrrha and Arkos, because this girl has some serious catch-up to do. I'll do my best to give satisfactory conclusions to everyone's stories, and hopefully those that feel incomplete will be because they simply aren't meant to be. In any case, if this fic hits chapter seventy, I might lose my shit. Lots of love and thanks to my readers!

 


	63. Chapter Sixty-Two

It's so quiet in here, the quietest it's been for Team RWBY for a long time, and in the beginning it made it hard to relax. It had been easier in the noisy corridor outside of the semi-private room they were now sequestered away in, where Weiss and Blake waited with Taiyang and Qrow, all the commotion able to drown out the buzz of lingering adrenaline in their heads. The four of them waited as Ruby had been rushed inside and hooked back up to machines like the ones she had ripped free of earlier, and a new battery of poking and prodding from doctors began immediately after. Midway through their examination everything stopped, a room full of professionals watching, dumbfounded, as all the blackness and mutation in Ruby's skin just disappeared. Like smoke scattered by a gust of air, it was gone, and the young huntress drifted out of her magic-induced trance and into a deep, _deep_ sleep. When they realized her vitals were stable, even normal, the doctors reluctantly retreat to care for their other patients. 

Yang will eventually occupy the only other bed in the room, wheeled in, carefully deposited and tucked in to sleep off the remaining drugs in her system. Her treatment had been mercifully simple and quick; half a pound of mangled steel had been removed from her stomach by way of a plastic tube, and according to the technician she could leave as early as tonight. When the last of the hospital staff leave, Blake eases over to Yang's bed and climbs in, carefully arranging herself until she can rest her head on her partner's shoulder. Within a few minutes there is a steady, low rumble that comes and goes, the sound coinciding with Blake's chest rising and falling with rhythmic breaths. In time the others will notice the little, sleepy smile on Yang's face.

Weiss is still very much awake, but there's a certain serenity laced in with her obvious fatigue. She is relieved that her team made it out, that they are recovering, and that the link between her and Ruby is finally calm. There's the littlest pulse of her Guardian's heartbeat, a soft assurance that she's going to be all right, and Weiss accepts it as the comfort it's meant to be. Seated beside the bed she watches her, her brow knitting the slightest bit at the reddened markings on Ruby's face; they look like scars that trace the younger woman's veins, coursing outward from her eye and down to her jawline. Weiss is willing to bet it goes all the way down to the now healing wound in her side, and she mentally shrugs.

That's not what's important, she tells herself. Ruby is going to be okay, that's all that matters.

"I'm going to check in with Glynda." Qrow grumbles from the corner he inhabits, pushing to stand on his feet before ducking out of the room. Taiyang nods to him out of habit, knowing he's already gone when his chin dips briefly towards his chest. The visibly exhausted father takes up residence in the only other chair, his arms crossed and spine bent in what looks like an uncomfortable slouch -in truth he's just finally at ease and this is mostly natural for him.

Tai sighs softly. "I never thanked you."

Weiss flinches a little, initially unaware that he was speaking to her. "Hm? What do you mean?"

"You've taken good care of my girls, and not just today."

"They're my friends." she says with a certain matter-of-fact lilt. "I love them," then she tries to stifle a yawn with "I'd do anything for them," but fails.

"I don't doubt that one bit." Taiyang smiles and shakes his head in a slow, exaggerated way. "I know...I screwed up pretty bad as a dad, especially for Yang, and times like this make it that much more clear to me. So I'm grateful, I'm glad my girls have teammates like you and Blake to take care of them when they need it."

Weiss smiles, but it's brief, and steadily falters. "But we cause them just as much harm,"

"Well, you can't really avoid that, can you?"

"I wish we could."

"Me too." he nods this time, though in the same, deliberate way. "But it should be quiet for a time now, shouldn't it? At least a little while?"

"We can hope, I suppose." she sighs with a little sadness. Things like peace and quiet were luxuries even  _she_ couldn't afford sometimes.

"It'd be nice. Still, if that turns out to be the case, I'd love to have all of you over for a visit. I want to know you and Blake better, and I feel like even a Schnee could appreciate the quaint isolation of a little island like Patch."

Weiss smiles again, this time the expression reaching up into her cheeks. "That sounds great, actually." then she chuckles. "How soon can we leave?"

"Not soon enough." the older huntsman laughs too. "I hate hospitals."

The two will talk a while longer, voices low and soft as they drift between subjects like they had known each other for years. Eventually Tai will excuse himself to get something eat, offering to bring anything back if she has a need, which she politely declines. All she wants is to sleep, and that's not something a cafeteria can provide. He'll leave Weiss alone with her team, having had a feeling for a while that it is what she really wanted.

When she's certain he's gone, Weiss takes a deep breath, exhaling through her nose as her frame slowly deflates from her trained, polite awareness, to slouching fatigue. She lets her head fall against her shoulder, turning towards the bed so can look at Ruby's sleeping face. For a moment that's all she does, watches quietly, and then she hears the comfortable rumble from Yang's bed. Maybe, she thinks, Blake has the right idea. Though a part of her is rather certain it would be against hospital regulation, Weiss carefully gets up from her seat to climb into the bed with her Guardian. With great care she wraps herself around her Team Leader, curling against her back with her head between Ruby's shoulder blades and her arm carefully coiled about her stomach. Underneath the sterile smell of the hospital and the odor of blood and sweat, she finds the cool, comforting scent of rose petals.

Unconsciously her hand seeks out Ruby's, forming around her wrist that she might stroke the mark there with her thumb. Along their link there's a steady buzz of comfort the eventually settles into the same frequency as Blake's not so distant purr.

 

_(--)_

Pyrrha doesn't know where to begin looking for the others, and for a while she seems to aimlessly wander in a half hearted search for them. She stops after a moment, realizing that there must be a nurse's station somewhere, and if anyone knows where her friends are, surely the staff would. She'll linger long enough to find signage of some kind and then follows its direction. It isn't far, and she's actually relieved to see people she recognizes; Glynda and Jaune's mother are already at the nurse's station, saving her the likely awkward endeavor of asking a stranger. However, she holds back when she's close enough to get their attention, realizing they seem to be bickering about something.

"It isn't my fault I left my glasses at the Hollow, we were all in a rush."

"Then I'll fill out the forms for you, Gypsy."

"Just let me borrow your specs for a second,"

"That isn't going to help." but Glynda lends her sister her glasses, the smallest of smirks inching up one corner of her mouth. A smirk that blossoms into a full grin at Gypsy's reaction.

"Nature's sweet mercy, woman, you're blind as a bat! Here, take the damn things." and she pushes a selection of papers along with the spectacles to her sibling who still grins from ear to ear. Then Gypsy turns around, crossing her arms with a huff as she props herself against the counter. She answers a couple of Glynda's ensuing questions before she realizes Pyrrha is there. For a second the older woman just stares, ears pricked with visible surprise. "Are you all right, dear?"

"I'm fine." Pyrrha replies reflexively. "I'm just...trying to track down my friends."

"Oh, well, if you don't care to wait a spell, Gee-gee and I will help you."

"It won't be too long, Miss Nikos," Glynda says over her shoulder, "and it's my understanding that those who were brought here by Specialist Schnee were kept in close quarters. Those of them that weren't serious anyway."

"Okay." and she nods, her answer almost too soft to hear. "I don't mind waiting."

Gypsy cocks her head, still staring at her. "You sure you're okay? You look on the rough side of wrecked,"

"I am, really." Pyrrha nods again, putting on a forced smile in an attempt to sell how she's trying not to feel the little bumps and bruises up and down her body. There is nothing severe about the few minor injuries she has, no need to take a doctor away from someone who needs it more. "Just tired." she adds for affect, though it certainly isn't a lie.

"Indeed, I'm thinking I could sleep for a week myself once I get back to the Warren. Which you and your friends are more than welcome to join us if you like. There's always room."

"I-I'm sorry," she declines with a quickness that surprises herself, "I just want to go home. _My_ home, that is."

"Nothing to be sorry for, dear, I understand. As I've heard, you deserve that much at least, and I'm sure Rhea misses you."

"You know momma?"

"It's been a minute, but yeah, we've crossed paths a time or two." Gypsy smiles, reminiscing in the back of her mind. Then she nudges her sister's arm with her elbow. "Any idea when we can see him?"

"I'm not finished with these gods-forsaken forms yet, so no, but I think mother followed the staff who took him. Likely she'll come find us if they allow him visitors any time soon."

Pyrrha takes breath, bracing herself even as it catches in her chest somewhere. "D-do...you think he'll be all right?" and she hates the change that comes over Gypsy's face, how her bright blue eyes seem to dim and her ears fall back with the furrowing of her brow. Pyrrha also catches a glimpse of the long pause that comes over Glynda's hand. Her own heart clenches with the makings of a special kind of dread.

"I hope so." Gypsy sighs, unable to look at the younger woman. "He'll live if that's what you're really asking, but I imagine it's going to be one thing at a time for a while."

A thickness forms in Pyrrha's throat and she tries to swallow it. "I'm sorry. I...I probably could have done more to help him."

"No, dear, don't do that." the matriarch shakes her head. "Don't worry about the _could haves_ and the _would haves_ , we need to be _here_ in the _now_. Besides, I don't think there was anything to be done outside of what happened; as much as you might like to think you could have changed things, you're wasting energy in doing it."

"O-oh." she deflates a little, feeling a twist of embarrassment. She realizes she's not feeling quite herself again, but not so much foreign to her body as out of control of her feelings -there's too many of them and she can't manage it well at all. "Guess you're right."

Gypsy's expression shifts with a touch of sympathy as she realizes that Pyrrha's struggling somehow. She looks the younger woman over, seeming to dwell on how her hands have hooked unconsciously in the front of what she realizes is her son's hoodie -she wonders briefly where the zipper came from. Shaking that last notion from her mind Gypsy shifts to her feet and eases a half step forward, her hands coming up carefully to cup Pyrrha's elbows. Pyrrha looks up at her, at first appearing to be searching for something without know what it is, then she accepts the cautious way Gypsy circles her in her arms and pulls her in. With her hands trapped between them, Pyrrha allows the embrace and steadily relaxes into it. It's surprisingly comforting, warm and secure -the most secure she has felt in who knows how long- but it also stirs a pain in her heart; she misses home and her own mothers terribly. Pyrrha tries to keep hold of that soothing comfort, just able to do so.

"My boy's a tough one," the Witch says softly, her cheek resting against Pyrrha's hair, "and I've got you to thank for that in some part, don't I?" Gypsy smiles when she doesn't see so much as feel Pyrrha blushing, the heat against her shoulder unmissable. "Between you and Billy, you probably saved Jaune's life today."

Pyrrha has to make a conscious effort to make herself step back, though part of her is glad Gypsy yields and lets her have some space again. "It's not...I mean, he's my teammate, I just wanted him to do his best."

"Well," she lilts her head and inches her shoulders, " _I_ think it's more than that, but that could just be an old woman reading too far into things. In any case, I'm grateful, if you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask."

She isn't entirely sure how to feel, but Pyrrha accepts it all the same with a curt nod.

"Momma,"

Gypsy's head turns not too quickly to one side, letting her look over the bend of her sister's back and see Alice on the other side. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, just the others were getting antsy so I came to look for you."

"I'm still a bit busy, but how's your sister?"

"Trixie is okay, everyone else is still shaken up a bit....and we're worried about Jaune." Alice briefly fusses with her hands. "Did he...is he okay?"

"The doctors are with him now, and I think your grandmother is too." Gypsy tries to assure her, knowing that it really isn't an answer. "Have you seen the rest of his team?"

"Yeah, they're sharing a room with us."

"Why don't you take Miss Pyrrha to see them? I'm sure they'd appreciate the company, and then I'll come for you kids once I'm done here."

"Okay." Alice nods once before catching Pyrrha's gaze and lilting her head in the direction she had come. Pyrrha follows, falling in beside her as they two push their way passed a few stray pods of people.

They don't speak to each other, one leading and the other following silently though Pyrrha recognizes Alice from the flickering memories trying to shoulder their way to the front of her mind, memories of being nearly crushed to death by the hands of a giant. Pyrrha takes a half step further away from her, not realizing it, and she keeps the knee-jerk need to apologize to herself as the pair turn a corner to start down another corridor. They pass a trio of closed doors on both sides of the hallway, and then cut into the fourth, open door on the left side. Pyrrha's attention instinctively focuses on Ren, who she can see at the far side of the room at the foot of the other bed, and she cuts around Alice to go to him as the Faunus stops to relay what Gypsy said to her sisters.

It feels something like home again when Ren lets her hug him, and for a moment she just takes it in. When they separate she sees how his pale pink irises move to the side, silently gesturing towards the bed, and she turns her head. Nora is sitting there, looking to watch them both with a visible disinterest, all bundled up in blankets and pale. Pyrrha takes a slow step towards her, putting her hand in an empty space on the bed before asking permission to sit there. A little hop puts her there when Nora just nods, and Pyrrha takes a moment before asking the only question she could think of.

"What did the doctors say?"

Nora doesn't move much, doesn't lift her eyes but pulls the blankets a little tighter. "They want to keep me overnight." and she sounds listless, maybe half asleep though she appears wide awake.

"Well...that's okay," Pyrrha tries a little smile, "Ren and I will stay with you."

"Thanks." comes a mousy reply. "...Pyrrha?"

"Hm?"

"...I'm sorry."

The fallen champion's head cocks to one side. "What for?"

"I think," she takes a quick, "I think I understand now...how it was when you...weren't so you."

Pyrrha blinks and then deflates a little.

"I'm sorry." she repeats deliberately, but it doesn't feel like she means it. It's like trying to access her emotions through a screen, reachable yet untouchable. Since waking up in the hospital an hour or so ago Nora has felt a sense of distance from herself, but it isn't so wide a space for her not to notice the displacement. Nor is it so great that she has forgotten fear, because it drives the need to ask Ren -ask both of them- in a hopeless tone "You know I still love you?"

"Of course I do." Pyrrha replies almost immediately.

Ren nods, his response of "I love you too." almost too quiet for the tightness in his throat.

"Good." Nora exhales, seeming to relax a little. When a single tear skates down one cheek she reaches to catch it on her palm, looking at it with a veiled sense of wonder. "That's a good sign. I couldn't do that earlier." Even when the physical pain had been at its worst, the old wounds on her neck from Pyrrha's claws raging with fresh pain from Barren's attempted possession, she couldn't bring herself to cry.

For a moment the three of them are quiet, occasionally looking at each other, perhaps wondering if there is anything else that needed to or should be said. When it seems like nothing is good enough they give it up in favor of carefully piling into the bed together. It's a snug squeeze but neither one of them care. It's the most comfort they've known in hours despite being packed together like sardines in a can, and Nora being in the middle seems to bring a little color back to her face, so they let it be. The trio lay like this for hours, oblivious to anything else going on in the semi-private room; the conversations, hospital staff that come and go, the rays of sunshine that drag across the floor as the day marches on, all of it goes on without them. Even the little grumbles of their empty bellies can't drive them from their sacred space.

But nightmares still can, and Pyrrha jolts awake in the wee hours of the following morning. The room is dimply lit now, quiet save for arrhythmic snoring from her partners as well as whoever remained of the sisters on the other side of the thin curtain between the beds. These sounds are coupled with the panting Pyrrha is trying desperately to cover up, hoping it doesn't wake anyone. Carefully she sits up, still shaking as she works onto the edge of the bed and makes it to her feet. She'll pause long enough to make sure she didn't disturb her teammates before making her way out into the hallway. There the trembling spikes and overtakes her, her knees buckling as she braces against the wall to ride it out. For the better part of a minute her heart just pounds and she shakes, unable to do anything else, and when it finally passes she makes for the nearest bathroom to throw up. Looking in the mirror after splashing her face with cool water is the hardest thing to do for a myriad of reasons, the main one being that she swears her canines are bigger than they should be.

Pyrrha hopes to just sneak back to bed as she creeps out of the bathroom, only to be spooked when a voice greets her seemingly out of nowhere.

"Morning, Miss Pyrrha."

She's embarrassed at herself for jumping, the little shame doubling over when she curses. " _Shit_ , I'm sorry."

"By the looks of it, _I_ should be the one apologizing." Maab chuckles a little, then holds up one of the small paper cups she is holding. "Tea?"

"I...thank you." Pyrrha forces herself to at least pretend to stop shaking before taking the offered drink with both hands. A couple of sips are enough to help banish the new shakes, though the tea itself isn't that good.

"Hard to imagine a four-time regional champion to be so jumpy."

Pyrrha shakes her head after a brief pause and a third sip. "Guess that's not who I am anymore."

"Well, just because opinions change doesn't mean the truth does." Maab tilts her head, taking a mouthful of tea from her own cup. "Aside from the obvious, you seem to be faring well enough."

The younger woman nods. "I had a few bumps, nothing serious."

"Though I would imagine your pain is more...acute than most. Certainly more than a common physician could handle."

"You could say that."

"And Nora? I haven't heard anything about her, and it should come as no surprise that I'm particularly concerned,"

"She's asleep, though she was up and talking yesterday."

"And her emotions?"

"..."

The Faunus nods again. "Not to be rude, but she's lucky to have your company in that case."

Pyrrha hums, then chuffs with a quiet bitterness. She understands what Maab means, but doesn't think Nora is lucky at all. She, like the rest of her team, had been swept up in the consequences of Pyrrha's foolish martyrdom -how the hell is that _lucky_?

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Maab says, garnering Pyrrha's total attention as the girl looks at her as if she had just read her mind. "If it hadn't been the lot of us caught in all this, it would have been someone else, and that someone might not have managed to pull off the miracle _we_ did."

Pyrrha has no response, and instead allows the idea to sit in the back of her mind to consider later. She just isn't enough of a person at this hour and on an empty stomach to ponder the notion now.

"Let's go."

Pyrrha straightens, watching as the small Witch just starts walking. "W-where are you,"

"Come along and you'll find out."

It takes a moment for her to process what the hell just happened, but she will follow, and Maab leads her to the elevator around the corner. They board the lift, and it isn't until the doors slide closed that the Witch speaks again.

"I thought you would appreciate some time alone to visit my grandson." and she's smiling from ear to ear as she says it.

"He's all right?"

"He's out of immediate danger at the very least." Maab nods, the gesture coupled with a flit of her ears. "But Gypsy is on her way back from the manor with Glynda, and I don't know if Jaune can handle you _and_ his mother crying over him."

"What makes you think I would cry?" it's a strange, reactionary question, one she isn't sure of where it came from.

"Nature's grace, girl," Maab chuckles, "the two of you love each other so much it almost hurts to watch."

"Jaune's just-,"

"You didn't see him before," the older woman counters. "You didn't see how he carried on before you and Manticore were separated; I barely know him and _I_ could see it."

Pyrrha feels a surge of heat rise up into her face as her hands start to fuss in front of her. "Well...Jaune's a very...caring person, so why wouldn't he worry about his partner's well being?"

Maab's vulpine ears flatten out to the sides, mimicking the flattening of her brow over her eyes as she looks at the girl sideways. At first she thinks Pyrrha is actually unaware of the feelings she had sensed so plainly residing in Jaune, but then she realizes the expression that the young huntress wears isn't one of innocent ignorance. It's much more like pessimism veiled in modesty -a face one makes when they're faced with something they want knowing it's too much to hope for. She isn't familiar with such feelings -being Winterborn, she has always taken what she needed- but she respects that Pyrrha has them and doesn't call them out.

The upper floor the two step onto is just as quiet as the one they left behind, and Maab proceeds without delay and with Pyrrha continuing to tail her. They pass by the nurse's station seemingly without notice and disappear into the hallway on the far side of it. Pyrrha gets so fixated on the seemingly mundane activity of walking that she nearly misses Maab stopping at one of the countless, look alike doors. Maab just grins up at her in a motherly, understanding way as she holds the door open, tilting her head to encourage her inside. With some hesitation she approaches, chancing to only stick her head in at first.

"He's sleeping,"

"So wake him up, I'd bet money that he won't mind." and when she lingers too long, Maab pushes the back of the younger woman's thigh to get her moving. The Witch remains outside, meaning to buy those two as much time as she could because she feels they earned it.

Pyrrha finds herself in a private room, the space mostly dark save for the soft, white glow of a bar light above the only bed. For some reason the first thing she makes note of is the absence of a chair, likely because this room wasn't meant for long term visitors -too much need for staff to work without obstruction, and, for what feels like a short eternity, all she can focus on is that as she stares at the tiles on the floor. The bed is in her peripheral, as well as its occupant, but she doesn't have the heart to look up for several tense minutes. Her heart races briefly, a mere second before she swallows it down and forces herself to look at him.

She's pleasantly surprised to find so much color in his face, but that little comfort is tarnished by the wounds she can see. Bright red stripes on his skin seem to glisten in the gentle light, not bandaged, but sealed by an epoxy that would hold them closed while his aura steadily does its work. Without realizing it she begins to approach the bed, her steps deliberately easy to keep the noise to a minimum. Pyrrha can feel her brow tightening as she gets a better look at him, her heart clenching too as she sees the tubes in his hand and wires patched to his bare chest. She's reminded of how much she hates hospitals when she ponders the machines bitterly, but not the reason why -which she'll come to be grateful for later.

Her heart beats easy again when she marks the movement of his chest with steady breaths, taking a moment to unconsciously make sure her own lungs are working, and that somehow gives her what she needs to close the gap between herself and Jaune's bedside. There's a bit of space at the edge and she inches up to half sit, her arms unconsciously wrapping about her in a self-comforting way. Her emotions are conflicting again, a mess of hating this and being relieved that it's this and not a morgue, between guilt of being part of what brought him to this bed and pride that he fought so hard and survived, and countless other things she doesn't want to define right now. Now all she wants is to hold his hand, which she oh-so-carefully does even though she knows it's selfish. Pyrrha inches a little close, slowly putting both her hands around one of his and pulling it to rest atop her thigh. Without thinking she makes circles on his knuckles with the pad of her thumb, remembering when he did the same for her when their roles had been reversed.

Jaune stirs after a moment, a little jolt that translates through his whole body as if he's waking too suddenly from a dream. His chest rises with one big breath and his head turns against the pillow, allowing Pyrrha to see the stark, almost black circles beneath his eyes. He half slurs what sounds like her name.

"It's me," it's audible that she has to force it a little, "I'm here." She watches him, hanging on to a little wish that he'll open his eyes and unable to hold back a little smile when that wish comes true. Jaune blinks sluggishly, eventually settling for half parted lids that reveal a tired, dull blueness between the lashes. He can't see too well, but enough to make out a blurred silhouette.

"Hello again."

He smiles, a weak but honest upturning of his lips, and his fingers flex weakly in her hand. "You're okay." he rasps, almost too quiet to hear. "Good."

"Glynda was able to get us out," she starts and then stops, regathering her words, "thanks to you."

"Nora?"

She holds his hand a little tighter, thinking again. "I think she'll be all right. Given time." and it almost feels like lying because she isn't certain enough.

Jaune appears to physically relax, nodding slowly in congress with a short exhale. For a moment, the two sit quietly, seeming to just take each other in.

"Jaune,"

He grunts in acknowledgment.

Her mouth moves to form the words waiting in her mind, but pauses, making a last minute rearrangement. "You could have died."

"...Never stopped you."

Pyrrha's posture drops -he's right and she hates it. "Please tell me you didn't take such a big risk just to rub it in my face."

Jaune shakes his head as best he can. "Didn't know it would turn out like this...just wanted to help Nora."

"Right," she nods, "of course. I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to accuse you like that." then a quiet chuckle. "Who am I to judge, anyway?"

"You're my partner."

Were it not for the exceptional, surprising weight behind his words, Pyrrha might have considered asking him if that was all she was; her instincts are trying to convince her that the heaviness itself was answer enough, that coupled with the way he squeezes her hand and gives her an unyielding look. Heat rises into her face and for a moment she can only meet his gaze, feeling like a doe in the headlights until she looks away with a soft clearing of her throat.

He then tries a laugh, the sincerity of his expression broken up by a crooked smirk. "You get to call me out on being stupid...you most of all."

Why that makes her blush harder, she'll never know.

"Just thought it was right. Like I had to do it." he continues. "You know."

"I do." she admits with a slow nod.

"Gotta protect my team." he exhales, and he feels his consciousness flickering, like gravity is pushing him down. For a moment he's lost in it, wrapped up in darkness, until he hears Pyrrha calling him back again. "Hm?"

"I'm tired." she repeats. It had started out as something stray, just a thought that found its way out, but she says it again when she realizes it's the truth. "I'm done with...all this. I want to go home."

"Hm." it's a sound of understanding. His brain and thoughts are all a mess, but he knows what she means. "Then go."

"But,"

"Go," he insists, "go home and take care of yourself - _please_ take care of yourself." and he drives it home by easing his other hand over hers, though it's obviously an effort. She looks at him, wordless, her expression flickering with a sort of surprised confusion as her eyes flit from their joined hands to his face and back again.

"No," she shakes her head, "I should stay. You all need me."

"I'll be fine. I'm not going anywhere and I've," he blinks out again, just for a second, "I've got my family. Just...just take Nora and Ren with you, they _do_ need you...especially Nora after what happened. When I'm back on my feet, maybe then we can be a team again...pick up where we left off. If...if that's what you want."

Gods above, now the tears come and she can't think fast enough to stop them. She doesn't even know what she's crying about, only that she needs to, just like she needs to hold his hand as tight as possible or she might lose him somehow. Then she laughs unevenly when he asks if he's said something wrong because he can hear her sniffling, and Pyrrha has to reassure him more than once before the concern leaves his face. After a moment of just basking in the warmth of her laughter, something he has missed for _so long_ , he manages to find a few weak chuckles for himself.

Without a thought Pyrrha shifts to her feet, her hands slipping free of his as she takes a big step along the edge of the bed so she can embrace him. It's desperate -she knows it's probably too rough for his fragile body- and she hides her face awkwardly in the crook of his neck so he can't see the resurgence of tears. For a second he doesn't move, his hands hovering over his stomach until he's sure of what to do with them. Not too quickly he manages to wind his arms around her and reciprocate, doing his best to meet her with the same temerity she's giving him. He can feel her aura reaching out to him, and that too tries to rise and accept the offer, the two energies threading together with a warm, nostalgic familiarity -like nothing had changed since the day they met and Pyrrha used her aura to unlock his own.

She loves the way he holds her, how his arms seem to fit so perfectly across her back and his hand gently cups the back of her neck; it's how she has always wanted him to hold her. This close, this vulnerable, she can't help but to take a chance and kiss his cheek, though her lips stay pressed to his skin far too long to be considered platonic. When she finally pulls back she only eases back in again to let her forehead rest lightly against his.

_I love you, I love you,_ her mind chants, her tongue between her teeth to keep the words inside, _gods above, I love you so much._ Then she kisses just above his brow, her lips lingering for too long again, and at the same time her conscience is telling her to stop because she doesn't have his consent -remembers she's never had it but has taken the liberty anyway, so why stop now...

Jaune knows he's not thinking straight, in fact he's not thinking much at all, his hands are moving of their own accord with one easing from along her neck to cup one cheek, and the other making its way from her back to her shoulder and along her throat to frame her face. Gentle encouragement dips Pyrrha's chin low enough, and he's grateful that she seems to understand what he means by it when her eyes meet his for a tense second. Their lips come together, slow but deliberate, and their auras commingle in a wash of warmth like their joint breaths. Her heart flutters, he knows because he can feel it, and he smiles against her lips. They pull apart to pant and laugh at each other, then rejoin for a second round.

"How am I supposed to leave now?" she laughs softly once she has another moment to breathe.

"It's an order." he's still smiling, sluggishly but it's there, and trying to sound authoritative at the same time. "Your Team Leader is telling you to take a vacation."

"Your mom already offered to let me stay," she counters, "I could help take care of you."

"I'd be a distraction." he shakes his head. "You need to recover too...let someone take care of _you_ for a change."

She knows he's right but won't say so out loud; doing that would mean she agrees that the two of them being apart is what's best even though it goes against everything she's thinking and feeling right now. All she wants is to stay right here, in this moment with him, the rest of the world be damned. Pyrrha presses her forehead to his again, her brow knitting as she fights another wave of tears.

"I want to stay with you." she rasps. "We finally have the time."

"I know, but we'll make more time, I promise. No matter what it takes." his thumb strokes her cheek, the pad of it growing wet with a stray tear. "You can call me if you want."

"Like normal teenagers? Sounds silly," and they share another laugh, Pyrrha managing to get up the gumption to finally pull away and straighten. Her heart clenches as his hand unconsciously finds hers and holds on before she gets too far away. "You're not making this easy."

"I know, I'm sorry." he lets go, hating to do it, and rubs his eyes that are still terribly tender. "Be safe, okay?"

"I'll try if you will." she replies because she can't stand the thought of saying goodbye. It feels like pulling against the world when she turns her back to him and starts moving towards the door, and she has to consciously fight the urge to look back in order to leave the room. Once across the threshold she releases a heavy exhale, both relieved and mildly anxious.

Gypsy and Glynda are chatting quietly with Maab when she emerges, the conversation abruptly cut off as all four of them exchange brief glances. Gypsy will excuse herself to visit with Jaune, Maab deciding at the last moment to follow. Pyrrha thinks to head back down to be with Ren and Nora, talk to them about immediate plans, but Glynda catches her attention.

"Miss Nikos," she waits for the young huntress to pause, "may I assume that Jaune's condition has improved?"

"I think so, yes. He managed to stay awake for me."

"Good." Glynda nods. "On my way up I heard that Miss Valkyrie is about to be discharged, though I would ask that the three of you to stay a while longer."

"Why?"

"General Ironwood is on his way here, he means to speak to each of us about what happened yesterday."

Pyrrha unknowingly scowls, her gaze breaking away as her hands disappear into the pockets of her borrowed hoodie. "How long until he arrives?"

"Perhaps a half hour or so, more than enough to time to mentally prepare yourselves."

"Of course. Thank you, I'll let the others know." and she moves on towards the elevator.

True to her word, Pyrrha locates her teammates and alerts them to the general's impending arrival, but also to her abject lack of desire to see or speak with him. Turns out the feeling is mutual; they're all tired and fed up with this whole mess, and the last thing they want is to be grilled into reliving it. They're also quick to agree that a trip back to Ithica is a favorable plan, but not so swift to figure out how to get underway before Ironwood arrived. Then Pyrrha has an idea, and once Nora finished with her discharge papers, the three of them went in search of Tag.

The Spring Maiden and her Guardian are visiting Team RWBY -all four members awake and in good spirits- a few doors down the hall. The lot spare a moment for greetings and for Ruby to beg Pyrrha for a hug, but no more than that as Nora pushes to get the point across. It doesn't take much at all to convince Tag to get in touch with Daisy, in hopes that the specialist's current orders would help expedite matters. _"Don't worry,"_ Daisy laughed over the line, _"if the general asks, I'll just tell him Rhea demanded I bring Pyrrha home. I can act outside of orders if I feel my life's in danger, it's in my contract."_ Tag hates that she might have to lie, but appreciates the effort she was willing to make. When the call ends, Tag informs them that they only have minutes before the ship arrives; they say their goodbyes and grab their things before hustling for the helipad on the top floor.

"Billy and I will run interference for you as long as we can." Tag assures them as they step aboard. "And tell your mothers I said hello."

"I will." Pyrrha smiles. "Thank you."

The hatch closes and the engines surge louder, and the three of them can feel the ship shifting slightly as it takes off. With that comes an unprecedented sense of relief, a feeling that might have been tainted if they knew that Ironwood's transport was passing by on the street below them; they missed him by minutes, and though Pyrrha had no awareness of the fact, something in her makes her want to laugh. She thinks this must be what skipping class feels like.

It's long after midnight, Mistral Time, when Daisy drops them off as close to the Nikos house as possible, and she'll linger long enough to receive well earned thanks from her passengers before taking off again to head for the outpost on the north bend of the Rim.

The three of them start at a slow, tired walk towards the house, but as they draw closer Pyrrha can feel her heart hitching, pushing her steadily faster. After only a dozen steps she's almost running, a half dozen more and she drops her backpack so as not to impede her flat sprint, and somehow faster still when she sees the lights inside come on through the slats of the shutters in the windows. Someone must have heard the ruckus of the ship -she doesn't care who it is, only that someone is there at all and that maybe they're waiting for her. Ren and Nora trail behind, snatching up their teammate's bag but without any visible hurry to catch up. They know Pyrrha needs this for herself.

Before she fully realizes what she's doing, Pyrrha jumps the edge of the veranda, her shoes squeaking a little as she gains traction on the marble. The noise startles a pod of sleeping peacocks, the males immediately lifting their heads and starting to sound off in alarm. Her heart is pounding and she's panting when she stops at the back door, briefly frozen there as her brain finally catches up. She has to fight with doubt - _what if they hate me now, what if they make me leave, what if they don't believe I'm me again_ \- before she finally manages to raise her hand and knock with three quick, earnest raps of her first knuckle. It still startles her when the door suddenly swings open, and she holds her breath when Rhea's shadow falls on her.

For a short eternity Rhea just stares, her face unreadable save for the traces of sleep around her eye. She stands stock still, her body almost half in and half out of the house as she had likely meant to rail whoever was pounding on her back door in the middle of the night. But instead of some foolish stranger like she had anticipated, she finds what looks like her daughter -the Pyrrha she remembers and not the one that was here mere days ago that seemed to only assume her appearance.

"Momma," Pyrrha ekes out, her throat as tight as her ribs feel.

Rhea's expression softens as a soft burst of air leaves her lungs and one of her hands press against the doorway to brace herself. Much to Pyrrha's relief, Rhea's other hand reaches out to her, her mother's arm hooking across her shoulders to pull her in to one of the tightest embraces she's ever felt. Both of them start crying as they hold on for dear life to each other. A flurry of apologies is muffled by Rhea's shoulder, but she recognizes it and shushes her daughter immediately -Pyrrha is safe and home and calling her momma again, that's all she cares about.

In time Rhea calls out to her partners, not caring at all that it's the dead of night and she's shouting, and within the next minute Thana and Haeda are making their way around the sofa. Thana reaches them first, arms wide to catch both Pyrrha and Rhea in an embrace. Haeda does something similar, though with her size and strength it's much too easy to gather all three into her arms and lift them off the ground while purring loud and hard with her tail straight up behind her.

Ren and Nora reach the door and wait just outside, shoulder to shoulder so they can both watch and in their own way appreciate the touching family moment. Nora leans into her partner, her hand slipping into his, and he reciprocates by kissing the top of her head. Being so caught up in each other, they don't expect to be invited into the crowd of affection, but they certainly don't turn down the opportunity when it's offered.

 

 

Author's Note: Feels a little weird to end the chapter here, but yet it doesn't. Next couple chapters might be weird, but we'll see; I want to put in a full chapter focusing just on Pyrrha and how she gives normal a try, but I also need to close up threads on RWBY and Cinder, so that's on the docket too. How I actually put it together is important so I need to be careful or I'm going to hate myself. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten Pyrrha's dad and how she deals with his death, that's on the way. See you guys next chapter!

 


	64. Chapter Sixty-Three

The first few days being home seemed hauntingly normal, and while everyone in the house picked up on the feeling, they went along with it for Pyrrha's sake. Her mothers knew damn good and well that the other shoe was going to drop, but until then they would do their best to keep things stable. They don't push her to talk, give her space when she needs it, and just carry on with life as usual. For the most part this is just fine; Rhea finds great comfort in seeing her daughter laughing and reconnecting and spending time with her teammates, the only thing out of the ordinary is that she doesn't sleep in her own room. The first night she slept in her favorite chair -it hadn't been easy sleep, but no one expected it to be- and the second and third night she slept in the spare bed with Ren and Nora, the two of them helping her through bouts of nightmares. The fourth night Rhea finds her pacing the living room, unwilling to explain why when she asks. She accepts it, though it's clear she didn't want to, and instead invites Pyrrha to sit on the sofa with her. Eventually Pyrrha dozes off, her head in her mother's lap as Rhea stroked her hair -reminiscent of when she was so much smaller.

Pyrrha avoids her own bedroom like the plague until the fifth day, when her behavior does a complete one-eighty and she seems to disappear into it. No one sees her for almost two full days, and Rhea becomes worried enough to knock on her door just to make sure she's still there. With a tight, tired voice Pyrrha assures her that she's fine, that she just needs to be alone, and again Rhea accepts it without really wanting to.

Then next morning she'll come into the living room to see Pyrrha sitting in the recliner, her legs tucked up against her chest with her folded arms trapped between them. When she looks up to meet her mother's eyes, all Rhea can see is heartbreak and it threatens to buckle her knees.

"Dear, what is it?"

Pyrrha just sniffles and loosens her posture, freeing her arms to reveal that she's been hiding something. That awful, crippling feeling washes over Rhea again when her mind rationalizes the small picture frame because she knows what's wrong, now she understands why Pyrrha had been avoiding her room. Gods above, she should have expected this. With a bracing breath Rhea steps forward, closing the colossal seeming space between them before softly requesting permission to sit. The chair was more than big enough for both of them -it had to fit every member of the house, after all- and all Pyrrha has to do is scoot over to give her ample room. When she settles in Pyrrha tucks up against her, finding a soothing security in her mother's arms. Rhea holds her close, saying nothing partly because she has no idea what words could possibly be good enough.

Finally, with a quiet exhale, comes "I'm sorry, Pyrrha."

Pain surges through Pyrrha's body as she tightens on herself, her face twisting up as the tears start again. She sobs into Rhea's shoulder, and all Rhea can do is hold on and let her as she finds herself tearing up too. For a time they just cry together.

"I'm s-sorry," Pyrrha sputters. "M-maybe if I had been h-here,"

"It wouldn't have changed anything. Theron would have gotten sick again anyway, you know that."

"B-but," she has to stop and clear her throat, "but maybe...he could have beaten it again too."

Rhea's glad Pyrrha can't see the grief she knows is manifesting on her face. "There's no way to know. Please don't blame yourself." Because she knows none of this is Pyrrha's fault. It had been -according to Theron- his own mother's doing; she supposedly put a death curse on him the moment he was born because the hag had wanted a daughter, and then abandoned him and his father to live in the lowland marshes. But Rhea isn't about to tell Pyrrha this, not now when she had just finished with the business of Witches and curses.

A long, pitiful whimper pulls itself from Pyrrha's throat as she fights a new chain of sobs, half failing. "Babba...I didn't get to say goodbye." Her mother's arms tighten around her, the pressure enough for her to let the tears go again, but now she's crying because she knows the last her father likely saw of her was the Vytal Festival. He had to have been so ashamed, and the idea of that rips her heart to shreds.

Deep down, all Pyrrha ever wanted was her parents to be proud, to never regret having taken her in. It's what drove her to always push herself, to excel, to allow herself to be put on a pedestal, whatever it took so they didn't feel like their generosity had been wasted. Her parents had never alluded to having such feelings towards her -especially Babba- but it is simply something, maybe a childlike fear, that Pyrrha got in her head and couldn't let go for some reason she still can't define.

When Pyrrha seems to calm a little, Rhea chances speaking again, her hands still moving over her daughter's hair in a comforting effort. "Theron never stopped thinking about you; even at the end, somehow I knew you were on his mind. He was the one who helped us all believe you were out there somewhere. Any time one of us even thought to stop hoping, he would give us such a scolding. And when...before he passed, he made me promise I would keep looking for you. You know...knowing what I know now, I'm a bit glad he wasn't here to see what really happened."

A bitter exhale, something resembling an empty laugh. "Actually, me too." Because Pyrrha can't begin to imagine how he would have looked at her, if the way her mother had was any inclination.

"Though," Rhea sighs softly, "he never would have doubted for a moment that you were his daughter; more likely he would've threatened to divorce me for even suggesting it." a little laugh, then, "I really am sorry that I didn't have the courage to believe you, Pyrrha, and not a day has passed without me wishing I could take those words back."

"I forgive you." she replies, and part of her feels like it came too quickly, too easily. Part of her feels like she needed to hold on to the pain of those week-old words and form a grudge because -gods have mercy- they hurt so bad to remember now. Rhea's disownership should have been enough to destroy their bond as far as Pyrrha knew, but she was just as eager to find forgiveness for her mother; she didn't want to hate her or distance herself, she just wanted back whatever parts of her life that she could scrape together. "Really...I just want...let's forget it happened, please."

At first Rhea isn't sure how to respond, her instincts telling her that it couldn't be this simple. Still, she yields to Pyrrha's request. "If that's what you want...though, if you ever wish to...revisit this, I'll be here."

"Thank you." and for now they leave the matter there, knowing there's still more that will come in its own time.

They take a moment to compose themselves, remaining close together and vulnerable, before Rhea asks to see the picture that Pyrrha still holds to her chest. They go back and forth about how long ago it was taken, where and for what reason, never really coming to a solid answer but barely caring. They get lost in reminiscing instead, trading memories and little, broken smiles. Rhea makes certain to remind Pyrrha of how much Theron still loved her, how proud he was even up to his passing, and how he would still be proud because she is a fighter just like him. She also assures her that he had been a staunch defender of her name after the fall of Beacon. Pyrrha can't decide on one way to feel about it, so her brain tries to feel a little bit of everything at once and reduces her to another short fit of tears.

"He left a few things for you." Rhea adds in passing, like it's an afterthought. "When you're ready we can go through them."

"Babba really believed I would come home,"

"Yes. And here you are." Rhea smiles, kissing the top of her head. "And there's still the money from your contracts, I saved all of it."

"Oh. Okay."

"And your shield,"

"Momma,"

"Hm?"

"Let's talk about all that later." _Much_ later, when she isn't so fixated on just enjoying the sound of her mother's heartbeat.

"Alright."

"...Momma?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think Babba would have liked my friends?"

"Most certainly," Rhea smiles, "especially considering how much they care about you. Yes, I think all of us approve of your choice of company."

Pyrrha makes a face. "Did you have to say it like that?" but she chuckles, "and I didn't pick them, the chips just fell that way." She mentally smirks when she realizes how that statement is only half true. She had, without a doubt, hedged her bets in regards to Jaune, but she would never admit that out loud.

Rhea nods. "Though, while Theron would have liked him, I'm not too certain how I feel about Gypsy boy."

"It's  _Jaune_ , momma."

"Like I said, Gypsy boy," she teases, grinning at her daughter's little shrug. "Point is, I don't know that much about him, only what you've told me, which isn't a lot now that I consider it."

"What's there to tell?" Pyrrha can feel a touch of warmth in her cheeks. "He's my best friend, my partner...I mean, what do you want to know?"

"How you met, for starters?"

"At school."

"I didn't ask  _where_ , I want to know  _how_ ."  _I really want to know if my suspicions are right._ Because all of her motherly instincts are telling her so much more than Pyrrha is electing to give. She isn't too worried, no more than a mother that's suddenly too aware that her daughter's a woman now, she just needs to know more. So she simply listens, enjoying this time they have together.

 

_(II)_

Jaune steadily improved over the last few days, but Maab was still keen to keep close watch over him. She just _had_ to know how he survived, and how he was able to come out of it relatively intact, because everything she knows about Grimm and magic and Witches is telling her Jaune should have certainly died -painfully so- after such a close encounter with Barren; yet the worst he appears to be suffering from is an inability to stay warm, and even that shows gradual resolution. So she watches and thinks, using her aura to conceal herself from the nurses and doctors so they don't disturb her.

Glynda and Tag had both confirmed that there were no traces of Grimm left in him, which Maab found comforting but not at all soothing to her curiosity. His memory of the event is spotty, but mostly intact. More details came to him as the days carried on, much of it in dreams, allowing him to eventually piece all of it together, and what he doesn't remember are moments he wasn't conscious for anyhow. When Ironwood visits to get his account of the incident, Jaune is able to answer all of his questions easily as anything, only stumbling on his words a couple of times. He even had enough presence of mind to tell the general "take it easy on my team, they've been through a lot." and sound like he meant it.

By the time Jaune was able to get out of bed on his own power -roughly five days after being admitted- Maab realizes all of his wounds have scarred over. They shouldn't have, even as deep as they were, but a steady regimen of magic and medical stimulation of his aura wasn't enough to keep the bright red stripes from forming. Having had the time to think she accepts the idea that the Mother Grimm had tried desperately -yet failed- to physically rip herself free of his body, and again she tells herself it should have killed him. More and more things aren't adding up and it's making Maab feel her age; she's almost to the point of asking him right out "why aren't you dead?" because she simply refused to believe he got out of that unscathed.

She considers digging a little deeper, doing so with great care mostly in regards of being caught. Naturally she doesn't want to cause her grandson further harm, but she likes the idea of Gypsy catching on to what she's up to even less.

Thankfully it doesn't take much time or effort for Maab to find something, though she isn't quite know what it is at first. Using her fox familiar she investigates closer, and Jaune watches the wispy animal move up and down along his body, looking to sniff at him. It then got up in his face faster than he was ready for and then suddenly vanished in congress with the little reactionary pulse of his aura. Maab's expression stretches with shock, almost enough for her glasses to fall off her face. They look at each other, both wordless and dumbfounded until the Witch found the capacity to suggest trying again.

Maab does her best to faithfully recreate the chain of events, up to the little fox jumping on his chest and getting into his face, but nothing happens.

"I knew it was coming." he says.

"Well what did you do before?"

"Just reacted, I guess."

"So it was your aura? Because I felt it, I think." her ears flit asymmetrically atop her head. "Try it again, but intentionally."

Jaune just nods and looks at the familiar, staring into the empty blueness that was supposed to be its eyes. Then he _pushes_ , his aura flexing again and scattering the creature like it's little more than smoke. When he looks up at his grandmother as she perches on the edge of his bed, he finds her ears are slanted forward and her face is scrunched with curious contemplation.

"One more time." and she waits for him to comply, feeling the flicker of shifting energy before she leans forward and puts her hand on his chest. "Now hold it there." Maab begins to push a dose of magic through her palm and into him, just to see what happens. In the next instant she's recoiling, pulling her hand away with a startled wariness on her face. "Nature's sweet grace,"

"What's wrong?"

"...Nothing's _wrong_ ," she almost fumbles the words as she hurriedly adjusted her glasses again. "I think...I'm putting things together," given another moment, she continues with "it all makes sense now."

"...What?"

"You took Barren into yourself, she tried and failed to separate from you because of your Semblance, and somehow you managed to come back from that...mostly together," she lists for starters, then quickly continues. " _Then_ , when she _is_ removed, it's in a deteriorated state...the only thing that could do that to her is a ley line..."

He understands. He hears and comprehends, but Jaune can't do much more than stupidly gape at her. It only gets worse when Maab starts laughing a little.

"Gods have mercy, boy, you're a walking convergence! Whatever magic Barren had couldn't touch you. Being unbound from Gypsy must have brought it on."

Though her explanation did nothing to scatter the disbelief on his face, he still accepts it, seeing as he hasn't any real ground to argue. If anyone knew anything about what happened between him and the Mother Grimm, it would be Maab, so he trusts her. It's a feeling that he and his mother share when she finds out.

It's also the fifth day of his week long stay that Ruby comes to visit him in his room, the rest of her team close by to keep an eye on her. Jaune isn't able to get out of bed fast enough to properly meet her for a hug, so his body dwarfs hers when he puts his arms around her, hunching as he perches on the edge of the bed. He notices that she isn't as animated and spry as usual, but that comes as no surprise, and how she's still mostly smiles soothes most of his worries -she makes a big deal over how their patient bracelets are the same color. Jaune can't help but notice the scars on her face, and he unconsciously stares at her right eye and its now solid silver color, but he does everyone a favor and keeps any remark about it to himself.

Ruby hops up on the bed next to him, her feet swinging a little as she starts a group conversation of nothing and everything. They reminisce, laugh, groan at a few select puns, courtesy of Yang who still wears her own patient bracelet that clashes with her casual clothes. They go back and forth about their conversations with Ironwood, not that it changed much, but it gave them a chance to vent about their communal frustration with adults in general. By the end of that leg of the interaction, however, Ruby is beginning to visibly droop; it takes some doing, but Yang is able to convince her to go back to her own bed. She'll hug Jaune one more time before her big sister scoops her up and carries her out in spite of meager protests.

"Go ahead, I'll catch up." Weiss says, and once her team has gone, she turns to Jaune and sighs. "She doesn't remember anything after her surgery."

"What happened? I wasn't there for that,"

"Oh, that's right, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, I worry about her too."

Weiss smiles, but it's a tired looking expression. "Doctors say it might be temporary, that she could remember at any time...I don't know what I'm going to tell her when she does. She still feels so guilty about...so many things -even though Pyrrha...you know, she still has to deal with what happened to Penny and Ozpin and..." Weiss hugs herself, eyes on the floor as she takes a breath. "She could have killed me."

Jaune blinks, his features stretching a little. He begs for an explanation and receives it, but that does little to change the look on his face.

"If it comes back to her, would I...could I ask for your help? You and Pyrrha...maybe Nora too?"

"I -well,"

"You know what it's like," she continues, now looking at him, "to have something inside you like that. I'm just...trying to set up a safety net for her, if that makes any sense."

"No, I get it, it's okay." he considers the request for a moment, her pleading look tugging on his heartstrings, and then shrugs. "I can't speak for Pyrrha, but I'll do what I can. Do you have Nora's contact in your scroll?"

"I do, thank you." and while the Winter Maiden doesn't look comforted, she smiles in quiet appreciation. "How soon until you get discharged?"

"Maybe a day or two yet."

"They said the same about Ruby, though there's a chance it might be longer. She and Yang will be going home, Blake is going with them. I'm afraid I'll have to return to Atlas for a while."

"Company stuff?"

She nods. "I hate to leave them, though. Guess it can't be helped. Will you be rejoining your team in Mistral?"

"I think mom wants me home for a while, and I think want that too. I'm still so tired."

"Then I won't keep you any longer." she nods again and straightens, "I'm sorry for dumping on you like that."

"Don't be, it's fine, I'm just glad you felt like you could confide in me. I mean, we may not have been on the best terms in the beginning,"

"Because you were a bit of a jerk,"

"Because I was a total jerk, and I'm sorry for that." he counters with a chuckle. "But I'd like to consider you a friend, and friends talk to each other."

"So I've heard." she smiles again. "Still, as I said you have my thanks. In case I don't see you after this, take care of yourself."

"You too."

He'll see them all once more, offering goodbyes when he's discharged two days later. Gypsy walks with him, lets him hang on her arm to steady himself in case his fatigue catches him off guard. There is a royal council transport ready to take them to the nearest train station; his sisters had already gone home, and Maab, Glynda, Tag and Billy returned to the manor, leaving just the two of them with a four hour train ride back to Watership Station. It's early evening when they arrive, Jessica is waiting with horses, and when they make it back to the Warren, Gypsy is elated to find dinner already on the table -it's nice to have dinner you didn't have to make yourself on occasion. Before he can sit down, Noah grabs Jaune up in his powerful arms and holds on tight. "I'm so proud of you, son." he says, sounding like he might cry even though Jaune had never seen him do it before in his life.

After the meal and countless questions, Jaune is actually happy to find a makeshift bed arranged for him on the couch in the living room. He just doesn't have the strength to climb the ladder to the loft right now, so just being able to flop on the sofa is a welcomed kindness. He'll fall asleep as everyone else is watching their usual trivia shows, the comfort of home and family more than enough to pull him down too deep to dream and too fast to care. The one time he wakes between then and dawn is only long enough for him to comprehend the familiar weight and sound of Yumi sleeping on his chest.

The following day is easy and quiet for the most part, until late afternoon when Maab comes to the Warren; she and Gypsy had already discussed the arrangement, both of them thinking it long overdue that Maab meet _all_ of her grandchildren. What they hadn't discussed was Maab bringing her mirror with her, which she did, having carried her focus all this way by herself with the relatively massive relic simply wrapped in paper and tucked under her arm. "It'll make visiting more convenient," she said, "which I mean to do more of in the future." It takes some doing to find a place for it, seeing as it wouldn't function in the house due to the convergence beneath it, but they find a safe enough room in the equipment barn after the twins move some junk around.

Once she has been properly introduced to the rest of kids and the son-in-law she's never met, Maab is quick to come into the living room and sit with Jaune, immediately pelting him with questions in regards to how he's feeling. She almost looks disappointed when he confesses that nothing new has come up so far, but smiles as she mentions that she'll be around for a couple days and how a lot can happen between now and then. Needless to say he feels less than comforted.

That night, after everyone else had long since gone to bed -save Yumi, who refused to go any further than one cushion away from her big brother- his scroll chimes from where it sits on the end table between the sofa and the recliner. It sounds off three times before he's awake enough to reach for it, his hands fumbling as his bleary eyes try to discern who's calling. All he can make out is a blur of orange and pink before he puts it to his ear.

"Nora," he clears his throat, "is everything okay?"

_"Hello again_. _"_ comes an all too familiar reply. _"I'm borrowing her scroll, seeing as I don't have one right now."_

"Oh," his brows lift in surprise, but then he tenses as Yumi stirs nearby, "hey, Pyrrha." he greets with a much softer tone.

_"I' know it's early, but...wait, I just realized the time difference."_ a breathy laugh whispers through the connection. _"I'm sorry."_ she repeats. _"You were asleep, weren't you?"_

"It's fine, I don't mind." he smiles to himself. "It's good to hear your voice. How's everything, are you following my orders?"

_"It...well, I won't lie, I've been trying my best but it's been a little rough. Ironwood was here yesterday."_

"Oh." he cringes, immediately understanding. "I don't think he was too happy about you guys ghosting him, but if you ask me, I'm glad you did it."

_"I couldn't tell either way. He seemed nice enough, I guess...even though momma shut the door on his face."_

He smirks. "I wish I could say I'm surprised."

_"I know."_ she giggles quietly. _"Thana let him in anyway, but not until he understood whose house he was in."_

"Sounds about right." now Jaune's nodding. "He wasn't too hard on you, was he?"

_"I don't think so, but I think part of that is because he wasn't really at liberty to be. Everyone was there, watching him while he asked me questions -like I had a pack of guard dogs all around me."_ and while she doesn't say so aloud, she loved the feeling. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so safe.

"Speaking of which, how is Nora?"

_"She's doing better, she's practically her old self again, so that's something."_

"Good to hear. Having said that, is it safe to assume that Ren's okay too?"

_"He is."_ Pyrrha laughs again. _"You know, I'm glad those two are finally -oh, how did she put it...together-together."_

"I know, right? Took them long enough,"

_"Well...we don't really have room to talk."_ there's a tense pause. _"Or do we?"_

Jaune feels pressure in his chest, suddenly too wary of how he might answer.

_"I'm sorry, that was too forward, wasn't it?"_

"No, no, it's not that. It's just...it surprised me, that's all." he exhales in a short shrug after a brief pause. "What do you want?"

_"What do you mean?"_

"Do you...want to be...together-together?" gods above, why is thinking and talking at the same time so damn hard? "With me?" he adds like an ill-fitting after thought. The long strain of silence that follows his question is nerve wracking.

_"Well, what do_ _**you** _ _want?"_

"That's not what I asked." he can hear her breath hitching on the other end of the line. "You'll get my answer when I get yours."

She clears her throat, or at least that's what it sounds like. _"...What was the question again?"_

"Come on, Pyrrha,"

_"I'm sorry, I'm nervous."_ but she tries to cover it up with a tiny, sheepish chuckle. _"Why was this so much easier when we were almost dying?"_

At first he isn't sure how to process that; part of him knows she means that as a joke, gallows humor, but much like her original question, he just wasn't prepared for it.

_"I...would like that."_ and while it sounds forced, it still feels genuine. Sometimes the truth is hard. _"But I'll understand if you don't want-,"_

"I'd like that too." he cuts her off, hoping she won't be upset with him for it. "I mean, all I can really promise is to try not to screw it up...I know that's not much but-,"

_"It's enough to start, isn't it?"_ she's smiling on her end, and she hopes Jaune can hear it. Then she sighs. _"I miss you_. _"_

"I guessed, considering you called at this hour. Not that I don't miss you too,"

_"I'm sor-....I just needed someone...and everyone else is still in bed."_

Jaune feels himself tense. "Did something happen?"

_"Just dreams, that's all. It's silly."_

"No it's not, not to me. Please, if you just need to vent, go ahead. I'm listening."

_"It's not that, I just needed to feel...less isolated. There's still some stuff...you don't know everything I've done and...I need more time. I just wanted to know I'm not alone."_

"Of course. Anytime. Whatever you need. I'm here." he sounds off his thoughts as they form, thinking they fit together by sheer luck.

_"That's great."_ her breathy laugh is borderline sarcastic. _"But I wish you were_ _ **here**_ _instead."_

His heart clenches. "Soon, okay? Now that mom's feeding me, I should get my strength back in no time. Though I've been thinking,"

_"Hm?"_

"What then? I mean...are we going to finish our training or what?"

The subsequent pause is more than a minute long, though to them it might feel like hours. Then she sighs, more like shrugs.

_"It's too soon to say. I'm sorry."_

"Don't be, it's okay. Look, don't even worry about it, I shouldn't have brought it up. Just keep taking care of yourself and we'll deal with it when I get there, okay?"

_"Okay. Thank you."_ and she sounds genuinely relieved. _"I guess I should let you get back to sleep. I appreciate you putting up with me."_

"Don't say it like that, like you're a burden, because you're not." he counters gently but with some authority. "I _want_ to."

_"All right."_ she wants to thank him again, but knows she just said that. _"Good night."_

"You too...or is it morning?" they laugh together and he loves the sound of her voice mixing with his in his head. "Maybe we could talk again later?"

_"We'll see."_ one last little giggle. _"I lo-...good night, Jaune."_

He knows, gods above he knows what she was about to say, but he also respects that she stops herself. "Good night." And he waits for the telling click of the disconnect before exhaling and setting the scroll aside. Yumi then stirs beside him again, this time dragging herself across the cushions to sprawl across his chest. Jaune kisses the top of her head and tries to go back to sleep, having to fight the heated fluttering of his heart.

_Together-together...wow._

They will continue their long distance chats for the next three weeks -most of them come around at a decent hour and consisted of just kids being kids, others in the wee hours that are not so easy- until Jaune finally feels fit enough to leave home again. Gypsy packs him a pair of bags: his backpack filled with clothes and other essentials, as well as a duffel with -as she put it- little things for his friends. He only knows of a couple items that could be in it, but trusts it isn't anything _too far_ out of left field. And Nessa was kind enough to sharpen Crocea Mors the night before he plans to depart. Jaune bids his goodbyes and heads out to catch the earliest train east.

It's two hours to the end of the line, and Jaune disembarks only to board a boat to take him still further east, across the sea to Mistral. He'll check the forecast on his scroll, glad to find that the weather is supposed to hold fair for the next couple days; he hopes that will make for a smooth trip because he's much too eager to get where he's going. The passage is easy, but it feels like forever, especially since the ship doesn't dock until midway through the following morning. Once he's able he's quick to disembark and catch another train for the last leg of his journey.

About halfway through the four hour ride, he thinks to call ahead, partly to confirm who will be waiting for him when he arrives, and partly to placate how much he misses his team right now.

_"Hey, Jaune,"_ Nora's smile translates crystal clear through the line, _"how far out are you?"_

"A couple hours yet. You think I could talk to Pyrrha?"

_"Ah, well, the last couple days...Pyrrha wants her space for right now."_

"Oh," he feels his heart sink a little, only just now realizing it had been that long since they last spoke. "well, that's okay. Everyone's entitled to bad days. Is there anything I can do?"

_"Just get here in one piece, I think that will lift her spirits a bit."_ there is a suspicious sort of chuckle at the end. _"Haeda and I are coming to pick you up, okay?"_

"Sure," he nods, "I'll keep an eye out for you. Hey, Nora?"

_"Yeah?"_

"Would it be possible for you to give me their contacts? Pyrrha's moms, I mean."

_"Yeah, sure, I'll send them to you."_

"Great, thanks. So I'll see you in a little while?"

_"You bet. Take care, asshole."_ and they laugh together before hanging up.

Jaune patiently waits, watching the screen of his scroll until lights up with a notification. One by one he adds the numbers to his list, though his thumb will settle to hover over Rhea's. He's thinking, weighing things, wondering if what's on his mind is a good idea. In the end he just shakes his head, realizing it won't hurt anything just to ask.

His surprise at the conversation's outcome will follow him all the way to his destination.

When he steps off the train later that afternoon, it doesn't take him long at all to find Nora's wildly waving arms as she hops up and down to be seen in the crowd around the platform. Making his way down he can see bodies parting as she is no doubt shoving her way through to reach him. Jaune is just able to open his arms and brace himself as she comes lunging between two total strangers, wrapping herself around him in easily the most powerful embrace he's ever received. She won't let go until he reminds her that he still needs oxygen to live.

"I'm sorry I just really missed you and it feels like forever since I saw you last and," she still has her arms around his neck, more or less dangling since her feet won't touch the ground, when she pauses and makes a curious expression as she looks up at him. "What the hell is that all over your face?"

His brows lift, and then he starts to laugh as she pulls him down so she can reach his cheeks. She squashes his face in a several different directions, seeming puzzled by the patches of bristly hair on his cheeks and jaw.

"I haven't gotten into the habit of shaving yet." he confesses.

"Wait...what? What do you mean? You were always smooth as a baby's butt back in school,"

"Because I didn't have to shave." his cheeks redden a little. "I just kept a razor and stuff so no one would pick up on it." because what healthy seventeen-year-old man couldn't grow a beard? For him it would have been just one more thing making him feel like a loser.

Nora cocks her head, this time looking him up and down. "...You filled in too." then she squints and jabs a finger directly at him before prodding at the new, solid swell of his chest beneath his shirt. "Explain." she demands with audible suspicion.

"Can we walk while we talk?" he humbly requests, partly surprised when she agrees. "Aside from mom's cooking, it's just weird Witch stuff. She made me and my sisters her focus objects, but it was a little different with me."

"So like," Nora stops to think, still walking and keeping close to his side. "Your mom...she...put a magical parental lock on puberty?"

"Gods, it sounds worse when you say it." he tries to laugh it off, but it's obvious he doesn't find it all that funny. "Still, that's basically it; it was a side effect of the spell."

Nora makes a sound of acceptance and inches her shoulders. Then she cuts a little grin. "I wonder if Pyrrha's into facial hair,"

Jaune feels his heart jump a little, heat rising into his face, but he's quick to squelch it as they make it to the other side of the crowd and he sees Haeda waving at them. He reciprocates, of course, and finds a quiet pride when he sees Nora signing to her and apparently comprehending the response she receives. He hasn't the slightest idea what they were saying, so he just smiles and goes along with it.

The walk to the Nikos house is a casual and easy one; Jaune will spend most of it with his thoughts off elsewhere, unfocused on anything other than the street until they get closer. Then it's all eyes forward with a touch of anxious excitement settling in his chest, and it doesn't get better when he's allowed inside and closes the front door behind him. Thana will see him first, turning her head towards the sound of them coming in as she strokes a peacock that's perched on the back of the sofa.

"There's our hero," she declares happily, "welcome back." and the bird squawks, slighted as his provider of undivided attention walks away to hug the young man.

Jaune drops the small duffel bag, surprise pulling his features as he accepts the brief embrace. "Hero? That doesn't sound like me,"

"Don't be modest, Nora told us all about it. The news hardly did it justice."

"That's probably because the news doesn't know the half of it."

"True enough." she laughs, stepping back so Haeda has room to kiss her. "And look at you, did you do some growing while you were away?"

"Yeah, thanks to mom's cooking."

"How is Gypsy doing?"

"She must be as fit as ever if she was at Beacon," comes Rhea's voice from across the room. She's stepping through the back door when Jaune cocks his head to look at her, seeing her brushing dirt from her hands and not in her usual finery but more casual, sturdier clothes. "And from what I hear, that battle was quite something."

Even now Rhea's presence humbles him, and he feels the instinct to make himself smaller when she looks his way. He stumbles on his words at first, but eventually gets his response out. "Nora likes to exaggerate."

"I've noticed, but Pyrrha and Ren certainly do not." she smiles, and just behind her, Ren comes in from the veranda -like Rhea he's wiping dirt from his hands, having been helping her start the garden now that the cold has conceded to warmer days. "It's good to see you in one piece, Gypsy boy, now, please, make yourself at home."

Before Jaune can do anything, Ren comes through the living room, rounds the sofa with a noticeable hurry, and throws his arms around him.

"I'm glad you're back." he says in his usual quiet way, but somehow Jaune knows there's so much more to it.

"Good to be back, and it's good to see you." he hugs him a little tighter.

"Pyrrha's been in her room since yesterday." Ren goes on as they take a half step back from each other. "I think part of it is her being anxious about you coming."

"Why would she be anxious?"

"You should try asking her, maybe she'll be in the mood to talk now that you're here." and his brows are raised suggestively, at least that's how Jaune takes it as he mimics the expression before his eyes flit to Rhea as if seeking approval. Ren assures him to go ahead, offering to take his bags as Jaune pats him on the shoulder with a nod of gratitude.

Jaune will keep his gaze half trained on Rhea as he makes his way through, passing her and sensing no gesture of rescission as he does, though he's more than mindful of her awareness of him; she eyes him like a tolerant lioness and he readily accepts that -knowing what that gaze is capable of leaves him with little choice. The weight of it only marginally eases when he reaches the door to Pyrrha's room, and is replaced with the nervous excitement he felt before.

"H-hey, Pyrrha," the meek greeting is coupled with a gentle knock, "it's me, Jaune." He waits a moment, receiving no answer, and then tries again. "Pyrrha?"

Another moment and then the doorknob rattles a bit as it turns. He watches as a space opens up, craning his neck that he might make eye contact through the gap, only to have the door swing back entirely. Pyrrha comes through in one long stride, her arms going around him and cinching tightly, her head tucking to his shoulder. He's only a little startled, and reciprocates quickly so as not to lead her to think he didn't appreciate the show of affection.

"Hey," he says softly.

"You made it." she replies, her words a little muffled by his throat.

"Yeah. Were you worried I wouldn't?"

"I just...it's stupid." she swallows. "I just had a bad feeling,"

"That's okay." he hugs her a little tighter. "I'm here and we're all back together again."

"Yeah." Pyrrha sighs, content and physically relaxing. "I'm sorry, I'm a mess."

"What do you mean?" he hasn't actually gotten a good look at her yet, and all he can discern at the moment is the upped hood that he once wore and nothing else. When she finally loosens her grip and takes a half step back, her hands and his sliding too easily together, he realizes what she's talking about. She looks a little rough around the edges, her hair mussed beneath the hood, and somehow he knows she's been wearing the clothes she's in for a while. From her perspective she's just praying he can't smell her, as she hasn't had a proper bath in more than two days -ludicrous by her own standards. But that's what happens when anxiety grips you with bear trap teeth and refuses to let go, you get lost.

"You look fine." he finishes.

She nervously tucks a stray ribbon of hair behind her ear, her cheeks reddening.

"Is that what's been bothering you these last couple days, my trip here? Do you want to talk about it?"

"N-no...on both counts...just not right now, if that's okay."

"Of course it is, whatever is good for you." he nods in acceptance, though he feels a spark of disappointment as her other hand slips free of his. "Though...can I ask you something?"

"Um, sure, I guess." now her fingers fuss in front of her, but he's glad to see more curiosity than apprehension on her face.

He swallows the lump in his throat and takes a bracing breath, suddenly so aware of how cute she looks wearing his clothes. "Could I take you to dinner tonight?"

Surprise snaps across her face, her eyes widening, and for a few seconds she just stares.

"I mean," he feels his confidence flagging, "I know I just got here, and you've had a rough couple days, but I feel like it might cheer you up."

"I...I -um, I'm sure momma has dinner plans tonight."

"I called her on my way here, she says it's okay if you want to go."

"Oh, okay." her hands are fussing again, and her eyes break away, unconsciously meeting her mother's as she still stands near the back door. Rhea's smiling gently, but knowingly -in fact, _all of them_ are- and she gives an encouraging lilt of her head. When Pyrrha turns back to him her face is red again. She cuts a defeated looking smile with an exhausted exhale. "I can't go out like this."

"It's not like we're leaving right now. We don't even have to do this tonight if you don't want to,"

"I want to," she counters quietly, almost like she had tried to cover it up.

"Then take your time, do whatever you need to feel okay, I can wait." and he offers her the most assuring smile he can muster, hoping against hope that she could take something from it.

Her smile brightens after a few seconds, the expression lifting her cheeks. "Alright."

"Great." he chuckles. "No rush, okay?"

"Okay." and then she retreats to her room, feeling an unfamiliar, bubbly sort of happiness popping her chest as she goes for clean clothes before making for the bathroom for a much needed shower.

 

 

Author's Note: This chapter felt kind of awful, but it is what it is. It's a transitional chapter, so maybe that's why. Next chapter begins a whole mess of Arkos and JNPR stuff, and don't worry, I haven't forgotten about RWBY and Cinder -they'll have their stories wrapped up near or during the epilogue, which will likely be a longer than average chapter. I've also had readers bring up questions about how Maab feels over losing Salem, which I've thought about but haven't considered going into detail with -though I might now that folks have asked. Who knows, we'll see. Hopefully, now that I'm FINALLY to the good stuff, the last few chapters will come more easily. Thanks for all the love and support everyone!

 


	65. Chapter Sixty-Four

He's excited, to say he was anything else would be a bold-faced lie, but Jaune's doing his damnedest not to let it show as he waits to get ready for their evening out. To occupy himself, he sits on the sofa and asks Ren to bring him his bags. "Mom sent me with some stuff to share with you."

Nora is immediately beside him, having hopped over the back of the couch and chasing off the peacock as she does it. Ren is a little more reserved as he passes Jaune the small duffel and takes a seat on his other side. Jaune unzips the bag and starts to push through its contents, most of which being extra socks. "Alice made this for you, Nora."

" _Ooh_ ," Nora holds out her hands as Jaune places a pink square of folded fabric atop her waiting palms. Holding it by the corners it opens up. "A new skirt! _And there are pockets_!"

Jaune smiles. "Alice is a huge proponent of girl clothes with pockets, and those are deep enough to hold your ammunition."

"You'll have to give me her contact so I can thank her." and she gives one last happy squeak. "What did Ren get?"

"Well, it isn't much, it's old," Jaune proceeds to pull a book with a well worn cover from the bag, "but Yumi actually begged mom to give it to you."

Ren takes the book, sable brows raised as he pulls open the heavy cover. He tilts his head at the little slip of paper he finds, a note scribbled messily in pencil that reads "for skinny boyfriend." His smile is lopsided but endearing, and he holds it between his fingers before turning the first page. "It's a recipe book."

"That's one of  _Gypsy's_ cookbooks?" Thana is bending over the back of the couch, suddenly  _very_ interested. "Cybele's sweet skirt, it is. Is her orchati recipe in here?"

"Probably." Jaune smirks in amusement. "If it isn't, I can get it."

"Did she send you with anything for Pyrrha?" Nora asks.

"A couple things, yeah. I'll give them to her tonight." When Nora all but tries to climb into the bag, he takes the hint that she wants to know what it is. "I told mom about how she has trouble staying warm, so her and Alice got together to make these." he pulls out one of the three pairs of what look to be thick wool socks. "There's a sweater too."

Nora gingerly takes the scarlet dyed sweater from the bag and pushes the folded garment to her face. "It's  _so_ _**soft** _ ." she groans into it.

"Thank goodness." it sounds like Ren is sighing with relief. "Pyrrha has cold feet."

"She gets that from her mother." Thana chuckles, and Rhea is feigning ignorance with a contrary smirk.

Jaune laughs a little too, reaching into the bag. "Jess and Trixie made this for her."

Nora puts the sweater back into Jaune's lap, a certain vulnerability coming over her face. In his hands is a small sphere covered in intersecting seams and painted like a globe. "Hey, that's just like the puzzle box she had,"

"Yeah. You want to scramble it for her?"

Nora just nods, her words caught in her throat as she takes it and starts turning the sides with no discernible pattern.

"I remember that puzzle," Rhea says as she sits in the recliner, "did she lose it?"

"At Beacon." Nora answers easily, her hands working on their own.

"Ah." she nods.

There's a crack of sound from the hallway, a door coming open. "Momma?" Pyrrha calls out.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you mind helping me?"

"Not at all." she rises from her chair, meeting Pyrrha at the edge where the hallway ends and the living room begins, the two of them quickly ducking into Pyrrha's room.

"Guess that's my cue to clean up too." Jaune grunts as he stands. Nora passes him the now thoroughly scrambled puzzle when he picks up the bag, looking quite proud of herself. He then goes in search of and quickly finds his backpack. He stashes both bags behind the sofa, out of the way after pulling a few things from them. "Should I shave?"

"Did Pyrrha even notice that you haven't?" Nora cocks her head. "She might like it,"

"She might not." Thana counters. "It may remind her of her father."

Jaune swallows. "Well I don't want to upset her,"

Haeda signs, knowing someone would be able to translate for her, which Nora does. "She says to ask her when she comes out. Makes sense."

"Okay." and then he shuffles off to the bathroom to make himself presentable.

 

"Are you excited?"

"I can't even decide what to wear." Pyrrha groans as she fusses through her dresser, still in her underwear with a towel in her hair. "I don't have a clue what he likes."

"I'm sure he'd like seeing you in anything." Rhea thinks aloud as she waits, her hip braced against Pyrrha's desk. "I mean, as far as I'm concerned, you're beautiful no matter what you wear."

"Thank you," her heart is fluttering and her thoughts are racing and she's doing her best not to let it overwhelm her, "but that's not very helpful."

"What I mean is that you should wear what's comfortable, wear what you want, and I'd bet money that it wouldn't hinder his interest."

On some level Pyrrha knows she's right, she could likely go out in her pajamas and Jaune wouldn't care, but this is her  _first date_ and she thought that deserved a little more effort on her part.

"Though it's supposed to get chilly after sundown, so I would suggest something warm."

"That's a start." Pyrrha sounds a little more hopeful, and almost immediately she pulls a dark brown, long-sleeved shirt from the drawer before pushing it closed and then opening another one, this time retrieving a pair of black leggings. "Red or green?"

"Both are great on you." Rhea smirks at her daughter's exasperated huff. "But Spring is here now, you should wear green." and that smirk grows a little more as she watches Pyrrha all but rushing around her room, looking for things. "What about the tunic Thana made you?"

"That's what I'm looking for." she replies as she kneels on the far side of her bed, pulling open another drawer. " _Ah-hah_ ,"

This time Rhea can't help but laugh a little as Pyrrha hurries to dress, seemingly forgetting about the towel still twisted in her hair as she tries to pull the long-sleeve shirt over her head. Tearing it free, Pyrrha chucks the damp towel across the room with a frustrated grunt, Rhea easily snatching it out mid-air before it can soar passed her. When Pyrrha's fully dressed she'll set the towel aside and pull the chair out from the desk. "Come sit, let me do your hair."

Pyrrha complies, exhaling hard to try and level herself again. "I'm sorry I'm so anxious."

"It's all right." Rhea nods once, standing behind her with a brush in her hands. "Though I'm proud of you for making the effort to go out."

"Well," she pauses, loving the feel of the bristles against her scalp, "I really like Jaune."

"I know, but it's not just that. I remember it being rather difficult for you when we went to get your scroll reissued."

"Oh. That. Yes, you're right." Pyrrha shrinks in her chair an inch or two.

"But that was weeks ago, and you've improved since then."

_And tonight I likely won't have to face down a hundred pairs of staring, disbelieving eyes._ That had been the most stressful thing about the entire outing; having to convince every other person she was who she claimed to be and then stomach their blatant refusal, once being called a liar to her face -the staring had just been an added, awful bonus. But Pyrrha can't fully accept her mother's claim that she has moved on, she doesn't feel like she has because she sees those same eyes in her dreams from time to time, sometimes haunted by the feeling that she is an imposter in her own body.

Pyrrha shakes her head, scattering the negative notions so she can focus more on the comforting friction of the brush through her hair.

"I think a half-tail would look nice." Rhea says in passing. "And it'll keep your neck warm."

"Sounds fine." in truth, at this point she's just trying to get through this. Pyrrha's confident that if she can survive the preparations without a meltdown, she'll be level the rest of the night. At the very least she means to try her best to be.

Rhea straightens and gathers Pyrrha's hair with practiced ease, pulling a portion of it together in the back to braid and tie off. She gives a quick, quiet nod of satisfaction at her work, and then lets her hands rest on Pyrrha's shoulders for a moment. Pyrrha stands up before she's ready to let go, turning to face her with an expression that begs for some kind of approval. Rhea just smiles after a brief glance from top to bottom, one hand rising to cup her daughter's cheek.

That same hand then inches lower to the base of Pyrrha's throat. "You want to cover this up? I've got a nice choker you could wear."

Pyrrha has to think a moment, then remembers the scar beneath the pads of her mother's fingers. "It's fine. I need to get used them."

"You don't _have_ to,"

"But I want to." she smiles.

Rhea gives her a sympathetic look, part of her wishing there were more ways to tell Pyrrha how proud -and at the same time, worried- she is. Nothing would make her happier than for Pyrrha to feel at home in her own skin, but did she have to strive for that so soon? Then again, that wasn't up to her. "As long as you're comfortable, dear. Now fetch some shoes, I'll go hitch up a horse for you."

"We can walk, momma."

"I know, but this way you can avoid the city crowd and have a quicker way home should you need it." and Rhea steps out of the room before Pyrrha can offer further argument, leaving her daughter staring at the space she used to inhabit for a second or two before she shrugs.

From there Pyrrha is quick to collect her boots, these having lower heels than she recalls being used to, seeing as she isn't so used to them anymore. Pulling them on and lacing them up brings a comfort she doesn't expect, her thoughts and heart both coming to level as she stands up and starts out of her room. But she realizes how brittle that feeling is as she comes into the living room and is startled by everyone's reaction at the sight of her, which are varied expressions of delighted awe. Both Thana and Nora want to fawn over how pretty they think she looks, but Thana hangs back knowing too many sources of such close attention ran the risk of ruining everything; her, Haeda, and Ren choose to admire Pyrrha from afar.

Jaune emerges from the spare bedroom, properly preened and in clean clothes -a fresh pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt that buttons down the front, the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms- and from the end of the hallway he can only see the back half of Pyrrha, but that's more than enough to garner his interest and quicken his steps. Coming out of the short corridor he can still only see the back of her, but he feels his heart fluttering and a mild breathlessness pass through his chest. She's so damn beautiful, and he's glad the words in his head don't manifest in his mouth because he doesn't know if Pyrrha's mothers would approve of language like that in regards to her. When Pyrrha does turn around, encouraged by the obvious lilt of Nora's head in his direction, Jaune forgets to breathe as his whole world collapses around her. For a few beats the two just look at one another, like they're seeing each other for the first time, then they both blush and smile in the exact same way.

"You look great." Jaune says softly as he takes the two steps needed to close the space between them.

"So do you." she replies though her face is red and her chin is tucked to hide it while her hands hover near her stomach, fingers fussing. She manages to lift her eyes, her head cocking to one side in curiosity. "You're starting a beard?"

"Kind of, yeah, I was wondering what you would think of it." his weight shifts anxiously, one hand rubbing at his jaw. "I can still shave if you want."

"No, no, I think I like it." and she smiles a little wider. "Though you might decide to do it anyway when it gets warmer."

"We'll see." he chuckles. "Are you ready?"

She nods. "Momma's saddling a horse for us. Do you know how to ride?"

"Yeah, we've got horses back home, but I don't know my way around so you'll have to drive."

"That's fine."

"Pyrrha, love, please," Thana gets her attention, her and Haeda both gesturing with their scrolls in their hands, "just one picture?"

Pyrrha's first instinct is to decline, but another second has her nodding with a bit of bashful reluctance; life's too short to say no. At first her and Jaune just stand beside each other, going still until Nora throws up her hands, demanding a momentary pause before jumping in and pushing the two closer together. Now Pyrrha is pressed against him and his arm is around her waist and part of her wants to hide because she knows her face is redder than ever. She looks to see him laughing, his smile touching on nervous, but he doesn't move away so she takes it that he wants this just as much as she does. Then he looks at her and it feels like times stops, but starts again when Nora squeals in sheer delight like a readied tea kettle.

Because "just one picture" rarely stays just one, Rhea comes back inside to find them all there, carrying on over the young couple. She wouldn't say it out loud, at least not yet, but part of her wishes moments like these would have come later, after becoming a proper huntress and getting her life in order. But fate had thrown them all for such loop that she feels she should be grateful that they're happening at all. Pyrrha's happiness is really what mattered to her, so Rhea accepts it with her own quiet joy. She waits patiently until they all realize she is there.

"Avro is all ready to go." she announces, ready and willing to accept Pyrrha's grateful hug once she is within reach. "And I put an extra blanket in the saddle bag in case you two decide to stay out late."

"Thank you, momma."

"Is there a particular time you want us back?" Jaune asks.

"I'd rather you come home _sometime_ before sunup, but otherwise feel free to enjoy yourselves. I'd ask that you be mindful of us sleeping folks when you do come back."

"Of course." he assures her with an exaggerated nod.

"Now go on and have some fun, you're losing daylight." and she shoos them through the still open back door, watching with visible amusement as the two teens navigate themselves into the saddle. She'll keep her eye on them until they're long gone from the property.

 

Already Pyrrha is having the time of her life, at ease with the reins in her hands and loving the solid hold of Jaune's arm around her waist; she thinks it's just for safety's sake at first, but then he lines his body along her spine and cranes his neck to kiss her cheek, more than enough evidence to the contrary. She's smiling from ear to ear with no signs of stopping as she directs Avro along a worn dirt road that rings the outskirts of the district.

"So where are we headed?" She asks with a hint of a sigh, leaning back against his chest slightly. "Not that I oppose just riding all evening,"

"Well, Rhea recommended a place...wasn't sure how you'd feel about it."

"Why?"

"She said your dad took you there all the time, and you hadn't been there since you've been back." he pauses, tense and uncertain. "If you want to go somewhere else,"

"It's fine." and her response doesn't sound forced or hurt, but natural. "I'd actually like that a lot. You don't mind noodle stands, do you?"

"So long as you don't expect me to eat with chopsticks, because I can't."

"Gods, that's right." she giggles. "Even after all those weeks you spent in Mistral before?"

"The closest we came to eating in a restaurant was a monastery and we still ate with our hands."

"Oh. Well, fair enough, though I'd like to hear that story if you don't mind telling me. And the asshole story, I still haven't gotten to hear it."

"If you insist. After all," he kisses her cheek again, "I want tonight to be about you." and then his free hand joins the other around her waist, making the already furious blush across her cheeks flare even stronger. She then snaps the reins, coaxing Avro to trot a little faster.

A near half-hour's ride brings them into the district proper, and the streets are just now beginning to swell with people for the evening shift change and dinner rush. Jaune slides down from the saddle to lead Avro along the edge of the thoroughfare, listening carefully for the directions that Pyrrha gives him. She could have easily navigated this crowd, but it's nice to not have to, it makes her feel special in a strange way -she giggles to herself when she briefly thinks of herself as a princess being paraded by her valiant knight.

Jaune picks out the noodle stand solely by his memory of Rhea's description, that being of a building no bigger than what most would consider a shack with a blue roof, and wooden framework around the dining area that are host to a collection of scarlet lanterns. He knows the style from his earlier time in Mistral, but hadn't expected them in a town like this where everything is so different. In a weird way it's comforting. Another small surprise comes in the presence of a hitching post beneath the lanterns, but before he ties the reins in place he offers his hand as Pyrrha moves to dismount. He knows she doesn't need it, but he hopes she'll take it as a mindful consideration and not a challenge to her obvious ability.

"Do you want to sit and eat here?" she asks.

His brows lift. "Did you have other plans?"

"Kind of, yeah, but we can still sit a while if you want."

"No, we can do whatever you want, like I said." he smiles to her.

"Okay." she smiles in return. "I'll be right back." she disappears into the building crowd, navigating around the line of patrons to snatch a paper menu from the wooden caddy on the wall beside the ordering window. She's quick to get back to him, handing over the folded pamphlet. "Order whatever you want, I can get this."

"No, no," he shakes his head, "mom would kill me if she heard that I let my date buy my dinner. This is on me."

She has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "Alright, if you insist."

For a minute he just stares at the paper, looking to not actually read it, more so skim over it. "What do you suggest?"

"I always get the Charybdis bowl." she feels her mouth watering just at the sound of it, suddenly remembering how much she had missed it.

"What's in it?"

"It should say right there."

"...Yeah."

Her head cocks to the side in time with a stray snort from Avro. "Jaune? What's wrong?"

Jaune still has his eyes down, chin tucked, and he shrugs. "Promise you won't laugh?"

She recoils slightly. "Why on earth would I laugh at you?"

He chuckles, seemingly to himself, and inches his shoulders. Jaune then straightens, one hand going to his back pocket where he pulls out an oblong case. He opens it and quickly unfolds the glasses inside to put on his face before putting the case back in his pocket. "I only need them when I'm reading...but I bet they make me look ridiculous."

"No," she says immediately, though part of her is still scrutinizing this new look. "It's not ridiculous, just...different for now. I'll get used to it. Did you always have them?"

He shakes his head. "Let's just say my last trip to Beacon screwed up my eyes."

Pyrrha feels herself tense and go a little cold. "Oh. I...I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's no big deal."

"Were there any other...changes?" she asks carefully, almost sorry she had because now she's worried.

"Nothing that won't keep for later. I'm okay, I promise." he gives her a reassuring grin. "Now what was it called again?"

Pyrrha does her best to calm down and focus, a task that is only made marginally easier as she walks him through the ins and outs of the menu. In the end they decide to each get something different, intending to share, and then Jaune hurries off to put the order in before the line gets any longer.

With his vacancy at her side feeling oppressive, Pyrrha tries to busy herself fussing over Avro, stroking the horse's side and face. Her thoughts are threatening to start racing, and she hopes against hope that they don't; she didn't want to ruin this, for Jaune or for herself. Oh gods, what if she breaks down out here in front of everyone? She'd never be able to leave the house again.

"Excuse me?"

Pyrrha jumps and hates that she can't stop herself from doing it. She counts on some of the old reflexes to help her smile as she responds to whoever it is addressing her, and while she's ready to deliver a practiced a polite greeting, she finds herself stopping. When she realizes she's staring at the older woman before her she shakes the daze from her brain. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Maybe." the lady smiles. "You _are_ Pyrrha Nikos, aren't you?"

"I am." there's a hint of reluctance in her answer that she hopes the woman can't hear.

"I heard the rumors, but you know you can only trust gossip so much." she chuckles. "My name's Medea, I knew your father. We had chemo together."

"Oh." Pyrrha's expression stretches and she feels her heart drop an inch or two. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you."

"That's all right, I didn't have hair the last time I saw you. Besides, you came to the hospital to visit with Theron, not total strangers."

"I, well,"

"I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable, I just...I guess I just needed to see for myself. Theron was a good man and it broke my heart to hear what happened. I would have gone to his funeral if I wasn't still getting treatment." then the woman half turns, looking behind her. "Oh, and another thing." still looking down she's speaking too softly for Pyrrha to hear, leaving the young huntress confused to the last moment.

Out from behind Medea's leg shuffles a little girl with wild sable curls and bright blue eyes. She stands between Medea and Pyrrha, shifting on her feet and looking from one woman tot he other.

"Go ahead and ask." Medea encourages.

Pyrrha watches the little girl as she looks up at her, now realizing she has a pen and paper in her little hands as she holds them up. "Could I please have your autograph, Miss Nikos?"

Her heart lurches, but she's thankful it doesn't show outwardly, instead she just blinks at the girl before raising her eyes to Medea. She assures Pyrrha it's all right to say no, because if the gossip is worth anything, she's been through enough and didn't owe anyone anything. But how could Pyrrha possibly say no? With a somewhat defeated sigh Pyrrha steps away from Avro and kneels down in front of the girl, offering her hands to take the pen and paper. She scrawls her signature in an almost automatic way and hands it back, the child scurrying away with the paper against her chest.

"It probably won't be worth much," Pyrrha sighs after standing, "though I'd like to hope that's not why she wanted it."

"Oh no, we still wear crimson and gold at my house." Medea laughs. "Thank you so much, you didn't have to."

"It's fine."

The woman nods. "Have a good night, Miss Nikos, and welcome home."

_Welcome home_. The words ring in her head and hang on her heart in a way she never expected. They leave her stuck in place on the edge of the paved thoroughfare, an unnamed sensation threatening to push tears into her eyes. Jaune sees her like this when he returns, almost dropping their food in his near panic as he demands to know what happened. She soothes his worry as best she can, sniffing down the few tears that emerge and somehow managing to convince him that everything is fine. Together they walk Avro out of town, back onto the worn dirt road they had come in on before they get into the saddle again. Making sure Jaune has a secure grip on her and their food, she gives the horse a good kick to the ribs to send the mare into a gallop.

They ride out into the hills to the south of Ithica, passed the wreckage of shattered trees that both of them keenly remember. Jaune has no idea where she's headed, but trusts that she does and doesn't question her intentions, even as she directs the mare westward and on for more than a mile. The sky is starting to burn bright orange when Avro's gallop diminishes to a trot, eventually stopping as they crest a hill. There Jaune sees an obviously human-arranged ring of hedges that come together at what looks like an altar -a table made of pale, weathered marble with an iron basin that's scorched with the remains of countless burnt offerings. A pair of purposefully placed trees stand just behind the simple monument, framing the setting sun between them. Just beyond that is a shallow drop, the hill collapsing on that side and down into the grasslands below. Certainly survivable should anyone fall.

Jaune feels a strange vibration here, a near presence and half familiarity that he can't name, it lingers in his thoughts as Pyrrha helps him down, and how it furrows his brow isn't missed by her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." he says with a stray shake of his head. This little motion reminds him he's still wearing his glasses and he's quick to take them off and put them away. "What is this place?"

"It's a shrine to Cybele, Thana and Babba got married here."

"Oh."

"Is this okay?"

"It's fine," he nods quickly, hoping to stave off any worry she might have ready and waiting to emerge. "Nice view."

"I think so too."

"But...are you sure this is okay? Isn't a little too -I don't know- sacred or something for us to be eating here?"

"Thana says to worship Cybele is to celebrate life, and we need food to live, so who's to say sharing food with someone you care about isn't a celebration?"

"I," he blinks, mind blown, "you have a point." he smiles to himself, shaking his head again. "You want to grab that extra blanket your mom packed for us?"

She's happy to do it, smiling all the way, coming back to drape the blanket over his shoulder so she can tie Avro to one of the trees to keep her from wandering off. When she returns to him she leads the way, walking passed the altar and the hedges, into the unhindered light to stretch out the blanket facing the horizon. The two sit down and Jaune passes Pyrrha her bowl, and she's visibly eager to pull the plastic lid off the foam container and take the scent of it in one exaggerated inhale. Gods above had she missed this.

"What did you get?" she asks, taking the chopsticks from him when he passes them her way.

"I was surprised to see they had goat, so I got that."

"Goat is pretty popular here."

"They're easier to raise than cows and are somewhat cleaner than pigs." he says in passing, opening his own bowl of noodles, unleashing a small puff of steam.

"Babba wouldn't let us eat goat." she chuckles once.

"I... _oh_ , yeah, I guess he wouldn't." Jaune prods at his food with a plastic fork, aimless for a second. "Can I say something? It's probably ignorant, but I'm curious." He waits, watching as Pyrrha nods in response since her mouth is full. "You...I thought you'd be less willing to talk about your dad."

For a moment she's still, not looking at him but into her bowl, then nods before swallowing. "I guess you're right. Not to say it's easy, because it still isn't. It's just...well, with him being sick like he was, I had to come to terms with him dying at a fairly young age. I was ready, yet I wasn't at the same time. Does that make sense?"

"I dunno." he shakes his head, his fork pushing through a weave of noodles for a piece of meat. "I've only ever lost someone like that once...but here you are. I wasn't ready, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do."

Now she's looking at him, sympathy tugging at her eyes, but it wavers when he offers her a chunk of stir fried goat. She takes it with her teeth, smiling at the little redness that comes over his face when she meets his eyes.

"Ooh, that's _really_ good."

"We can trade if you want,"

"Oh no, don't be silly." she laughs softly, shooing away the offering of his entire bowl. Then Pyrrha takes a deep breath, her bowl in her lap. "Nora...she said losing me hit you all pretty hard."

" _Pretty hard_? Try wrecked." he chuffs.

"Ren hasn't felt up to talking to me about it yet, but -you know how Nora is- she was the complete opposite and all but spilled everything." and Pyrrha remembers the conversation, how her teammate had sniffled through tears to tell her how much her absence had hurt them -hurt Nora in particular.

"I felt like it was my fault you went up there that night." Jaune exhales, his words curt, there and gone again like pulling off a band-aid.

"It's wasn't." Pyrrha shakes her head, lifting her bowl again and taking a small mouthful to quickly chew and swallow. "You didn't know what was really going on and I didn't tell you, so you can't blame yourself for that."

"Maybe if I had been paying closer attention, maybe if I had given you reason enough to trust me more," he could list things all evening, but he really didn't have the heart to. "I _literally_ could have said anything else."

"You don't know if that would have changed anything. Ozpin knew the kind of person I was," she takes a steadying breath, "and what you said showed me that you did as well."

"Guess so." he replies, his words half cocked around the food stuffed in his cheek. Then he swallows. "With that being said, I eventually realized that you would have gone after Cinder anyway...if you knew about her and what she was up to,"

There's no way she can deny it, not without it being a total lie. Her life had never really felt like her own -she couldn't claim it for herself- it belonged to the parents that took her in, then to the public as a champion, then to all of Remnant as a huntress-in-training, and surely martyrdom could be assumed by the same token. Still, she doesn't want to say so out loud, doesn't want to accept it, so she says nothing.

For a moment they eat quietly, a thin tether of tension joining them at the shoulders. Both of them want to say something, feel like they should -that they _need_ to- but what is there?

Finally, Jaune shrugs as he swallows. "I almost walked away from it. That's where Nora got asshole from."

Pyrrha just looks at him, a single noodle dangling from the ring of her lips, too shocked to finish drawing it into her mouth.

"I felt like her and Ren deserved better than me, and that I would just get them killed, so I thought about leaving, and she overhead me talking about it with Weiss. So she called me an asshole."

Pyrrha chews and swallows. "H-how could you-,"

"Because you weren't there to make me believe I could do it. I didn't know how to be strong enough for them, and I just...I couldn't wrap my head around how to change that without you. I don't know if you ever realized just how much of a difference you made for me, but I'm here to tell you it was more than I can really say. After you...when you...disappeared," he couldn't bring himself to say _died_ , "all we could think to do was just...keep going. Keep pushing forward. And I wouldn't have been able to take the first step if it wasn't for what you taught me, but, as much as it was, it wasn't enough to keep me from losing my nerve."

"Jaune,"

"Ren and Nora almost died in Mistral when were hunting Cinder, and it would have been entirely my fault if they had. On top of losing you...I just...I couldn't take it."

"But that was _months_ ago." she's doing her best to be supportive, though she really doesn't know how to navigate this. "You've grown so much,"

"I know, but...I don't think I'll be able to forget that feeling. And that just made being without you that much harder."

Her heart clenches and she blinks away the tears before they can form. "Still," she starts cautiously, "for what it's worth, I'm proud of you. You're all so strong, and, like you said, you kept going. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"I guess." he deflates, slouching as he looks out towards the horizon. If he squints he can make out the silvery ribbon of the ocean, a crystalline sliver in the distance. "But...even then, I only did it because I thought you would have wanted me to."

"You weren't wrong." and the breathy laugh she makes feels hollow. Another strain of quiet settles is, though there isn't the same pressure to speak as there was before. For a time they focus on their food, lightening things as they share bits and pieces, facilitating them to scoot closer together. Pyrrha lets the words that form in her head sit for consideration, allowing them to finish their food before letting them go. "Jaune?"

"Hm?"

"This is going to be a strange question,"

"I don't mind."

"...Did you cry for me?"

He's staring at the horizon again, his brow furrowed hard as he squints against the now dwindling light. His chest expands and contracts slowly, then he inches a little closer and puts and arm around her shoulders, hoping she won't reject the gesture and grateful when she reciprocates.

"Yeah." no use in lying about it. "I did. I cried my eyes out. Not at first, though; for the first few months I just couldn't bring myself to do it because...well, because I just wanted to focus. I didn't want anyone else to see me break down either, because that's not what Team Leaders do, right? We stay strong so the rest of the team can grieve. But...it wasn't until about a year after that I finally let it all go, when I saw a picture of us from the night we danced."

She laughs, of all things she laughs without knowing why and partly embarrassed at herself for doing it. And she still can't stop herself from what she says; "Gods, you remember that?"

"You think I wouldn't? Never mind how amazing you looked in that dress," he makes himself smile, wanting to forget the little hurt of her laughter. "But your smile, I couldn't forget that if I wanted to, and I can't think of a time when you were happier than you were that night."

Pyrrha feels her heart prick again, and once more she has to suck down the tears.

"I think that might have been one of the most tragic things about it," he continues unexpectedly, "you deserved so much better than that. You deserved to be happy."

She sniffles, wiping the corner of her eyes. She remembers Nora having said something similar when they had this conversation - _You deserved to be happy, and boys being stupid shouldn't have gotten in the way of that_ \- and part of her wants to laugh but she manages to rein it in. The amusement dies when another thing resurfaces from that talk, a feeling she's been struggling with since she's been home. "I can't help...sometimes I feel like that's just not true."

"What do you mean?"

"Do I really deserve to be happy? Do I even deserve to be alive after everything I've done?"

"What about everything you've _been through_? Doesn't that count for something?" he counters gently.

She tenses, part of her wanting to tear away and isolate. She didn't want to talk about this, it would just be circular and awful like always. "It doesn't compare to..." _Murder_.

"You had no control."

"That's not an excuse,"

"But it's the _truth_." he insists with a touch of authority. "You'd never hurt anyone -you know that and I know that."

Pyrrha frowns, eyes closing as she lets her head rest on his shoulder for a moment. "Please...I'm sorry, can we talk about something else?"

"Okay," his tone softens immediately, "I didn't mean to push. Can I...is there anything I can do to make it better?"

Gods above how she wished there was; what she would give to just say some magic word and erase all the awful things she now hates about herself. Instead she shrugs quietly, accepting that she can't wish it all away. "Just...hold me?"

"Aren't I already doing that?"

"Yeah but," she thinks for a minute, unsure how to proceed, "more."

He looks at her, his brows up as he appears to search her face for a better answer but all she has for him is an equally clueless and blushing face. Thankfully, however, after about a minute he gets an idea. "Scoot over here,"

Still appearing puzzled she does as he asks, cluing in to his plan when he uncrosses and stretches out his long legs. She settles between them, his thighs framing her hips, and then he inches up behind her until his chest lines her spine just as it had during the ride out here. He's a little surprised when she relaxes against him so easily, and he smiles instead of saying anything about it as his arms go around her, his hands folding over hers atop her stomach.

"How's this?"

"This is," she takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, "wonderful." And though what she really wants to tell him is that she has wanted to be held this way by him since forever, that it's a dream come true, she sates herself on just _wonderful_. Maybe later, if this...whatever it is they have right now goes anywhere, she'll tell him everything, and hopefully he'll respond in kind.

Jaune thinks this is indeed wonderful, wholly unaware that he's sharing her thoughts almost precisely. But he's suspicious of it when he leans his head against hers only to have her meet him halfway, and he finds himself wondering if there's some invisible link between them.

Pyrrha smiles to herself. "I think Nora calls this jet packing."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I think she does, except she does it for keeps and wraps her legs around you."

"She really does." She chuckles. "I've spotted Ren carrying her around several times."

"You ever been part of her friend sandwiches?"

"I'm usually in the middle." she nuzzles him gently, her forehead against his temple. "It helps me sleep on the rough nights."

"I'm glad they were able to help." he feels his heart hitch before he continues, "here's hoping I'll be able to do the same somehow. Though, I'll admit, I don't make much of a sandwich."

"We don't need to be a sandwich." she assures him, kissing his cheek to drive the point home and because she wants to. "Burritos are good too."

"But it wouldn't be a _friend_ burrito, would it?" and he has a strangely suggestive, hopeful lilt in his voice.

To her it sounds like a loaded question, one that she doesn't find offensive in the least but worrisome because she might just be reading too far into something that isn't there. A tiny voice in the back of her mind is calling her an idiot for thinking that, the same part that has accepted all the little things he's done, all the blatant signals he's given her to alert her to something more than friendship as more than just coincidental. Yet she almost can't hear it over her own sense of guilt, and that keeps her from answering his question.

It doesn't hurt too much when she remains silent, Jaune accepts it because he feels it isn't his place to press her. Instead he holds her a little closer, if it's even possible doesn't matter as he tries all the same, taking in the scent of her hair. "Did you have any other plans for the evening?"

"This about covers it." she's smiling though he can't see it. "You?"

"Just one, but it'll keep."

"You mean you aren't going to tell me?"

"Do you not like surprises?"

"Not particularly." then she sighs after a second. "Though I suppose I could deal with it just this once."

"I'll tell you if you really want me to."

"It's fine. I trust you. Though I'd like to stay here a little longer."

"Of course. Whatever you want."

They stay there on the hilltop, together as they are until the sun sets completely and it's dark enough to see Ithica's street lamps. With care for the darkness Pyrrha keeps Avro at a steady but slow pace, neither of them seeming to mind that it would take longer to return home. There's a blossom of surprise between them when they see that there are still lights on inside the house; they haven't been keeping track of the time at all, so they're likely convinced it's well after midnight. After putting Avro in the stable, they start towards the house, arm in arm and grinning like blushing fools.

Pyrrha can't remember the last time she felt this happy, this content, and as they cross the marble veranda, part of her is reluctant to go back inside and face the reality of her life again after having experienced such a sweet escape. Just as she's about to sigh in acceptance, she feels Jaune's grip on her arm tighten, pulling her back to him. Her eyes meet his for all of a second, long enough to acknowledge his optimistic grin before he asks "Will you dance with me?"

At first her brain doesn't want to function, she can almost hear her mental gears grinding, and when it finally does it feels all wrong. What ever she meant to say in response tangles up in her mouth and never makes it passed her teeth, until she finally stops herself with a curt buzz of her tongue between her lips. In the end she resigns to simply smile and take one of his hands in hers and direct the other to settle at her waist, leaving her free hand to rest on his shoulder.

It's a little, simple thing, a short waltz that shouldn't mean as much as it does, but it takes them back. As they move together across the veranda, absorbed in each other while Jaune hums an easy tune, that night from what seems like an era ago feels more like yesterday -when they had never heard of Witches and didn't believe in magic and didn't have broken, yet still mending hearts. Pyrrha finds herself smiling, even laughing once or twice, some part of her having forgotten everything except how much she loves him. Of course, all of that comes spiraling back to her once they ease to a stop, but it was wonderful while it lasted. Now they're pressed together, still so red in the face and panting, chins tucked and foreheads touching.

"I've had a wonderful time." she says softly, suddenly all too aware of how close he is.

"I'm glad. So you liked this surprise?"

"I did."

"Good." he swallows, partly embarrassed at how loud it is. "Pyrrha?"

"Hm?"

"...Could I kiss you?"

Now she's smiling wide enough to make her cheeks hurt. "Please."

It's the best one so far; unhurried, untainted by the desperation of fleeting mortality, humbling. Her arms ease around his neck, pulling him as close as possible while his arms do the same about her waist, and they can feel each other smiling. They part, still panting, but this time they laugh a little as well.

"...Jaune?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you..." her heart is inching towards her throat is the words form, "how about you sleep with me tonight?" and the way he tenses in her arms makes her stomach flip.

"I...w-what?" his eyes are all but bulging and he fumbles his words. "B-but, I mean,"

At first she isn't sure what he's so flustered about, but then the full realization of the weight of her request crashes through her mind like a bull in a china shop. "Oh. _Oh_ , I'm sorry, you think I mean..." now her eyes are wide too, "Jaune, I didn't-,"

"It's not that I don't _want_ to, just-,"

"I was...wait, what?"

"Y-yeah." his face is so red now it might as well be glowing, and Pyrrha swears she could feel the heat coming off his skin. "B-but I'm not ready. I...I can't really explain it right now, but-,"

"N-no, it's okay, I shouldn't have-,"

"I mean, I _do_ love you-," and his mouth snaps shut when she grabs his upper arms and just looks at him.

"...Say that again?"

"...What part?"

"You know what part, Jaune Arc." and she is surprised at herself for putting so much authority behind her words, though it isn't a good sort of surprised when she sees the way he winces. "Please?"

"...I love you?" it sounds like he's guessing. Then Pyrrha nods and he summons back his courage. "I love you, Pyrrha." In all honesty he hadn't wanted to say it like this, this soon before he was more than certain it was the truth, but then he remembered how short life can be and realized later might be too late. "I love you." he says a third time for good measure.

Pyrrha suddenly pulls him back to her, hands still hooking into his arms as she kisses him again, more fiercely this time. It's a little messy, but Jaune doesn't seem to mind, and in a way he understands; she had invested so much of herself in him, all she had ever wanted was affection and love in return, and here it is at last. When she pulls away he can just make out the faint shimmer of tear tracks on her cheeks, catching the meager light from the windows of the house.

"Please don't cry, was it something I did?"

"Happy tears," she pushes out, it's all she can manage with all the feelings clamoring around within the confines of her ribs. "But...my offer is still open - _just for sleeping_ , that is." then she laughs, seemingly at herself as she continues with "I'll spare you a second attack on your virtue."

"I'll think about it." Jaune pushes his fingers through his hair, trying to process his own embarrassment as best he can. "How about we go inside? I'll bet you Nora's still awake and waiting to beg us for all the juicy bits of our date."

"Oh gods, you're probably right." Pyrrha shakes her head. Jaune slips an arm around her waist and encourages her towards the house. "And Jaune,"

"Yes?"

"...I love you too." and she accepts one last kiss before they disappear inside the house.

 

 

Author's Note: My hand slipped again. But hey, it's an entire chapter of mostly Arkos fluff, so I doubt you guys will mind. I know I have more Arkos (maybe slightly sexy Arkos) and some RWBY on the way. Still kind of floored that this monster is almost finished. To be truthful, I'm ready for it. It's been fun, but I'm tired. Love you all, hope to see you with the next chapter soon.

 


	66. Chapter Sixty-Five

Jaune tries to maintain a regular sleep schedule; his lengthy recovery had thrown it ten miles out of whack, so sometimes it isn't an easy task to get out of bed before noon. Though, in truth, the greatest struggle for him is simply remembering to set his alarm the night before. However, he was successful in keeping it last night, so he's up just after sunrise. He's careful to climb out of bed without disturbing Nora, only a little surprised not to see Ren there -Ren seemed to enjoy getting up early to cook breakfast with Thana, so long as he was feeling up to it. Jaune fancies to guess that's what he's up to as he can smell something wonderful as he creeps out of the spare bedroom towards the bathroom. There he goes through his morning ritual, having to consciously remind himself to trim the modest makings of his beard so he looks less like Qrow and more like his father. On his way to the living room he pauses at Pyrrha's door, but only for a second; if it's closed, she's still sleeping, and he'd hate to wake her if that's the case.

He makes it to the kitchen, following the smell of food, but only pokes his head until he's certain he won't get in someone's way. Both Ren and Thana are at the stove and the adjacent counter, offering Jaune plenty of room to slip to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. He's taking the first in a series of mouthfuls when Thana addresses him over her shoulder, telling him the food should be ready in about twenty minutes. He nods and hums a reply as he's in the middle of swallowing, but makes an effort to thank her in words before he steps out again. Jaune takes what's left of his water with him out the back door and onto the veranda. The marble chills the soles of his feet, setting his skin alight with gooseflesh as he sets the bottle down on one of the chairs around the fire pit. A peacock honks on the far side of the yard, drawing his attention for all of a second as he starts into a series of easy, body wide stretches.

Once he had gotten out of the hospital, Jaune made the honest effort to get into a routine. Just as with setting an alarm at night, he tries to get in some basic exercises in the morning to help himself wake more fully, but also so he didn't fall behind in his fitness because it would have been easy to do with the comforts of home and family. Though it hadn't been enough to stave off a bit of pudge from forming about his waist. His face reddens while he stretches his arms over his head; Nessa had noticed his minor spare tire before he left home and asked if he was growing love handles to give Pyrrha something to hold on to. He tries to shake the fluster from his head with the first set of jumping-jacks. After that it's sit-ups, then push-ups, and then squats. He does several sets of each, building up a healthy sweat and redness in his face, so focused on pushing through the last of his push-ups that he doesn't see the large male peacock that has wandered onto the veranda until it hops on his back. The surprising addition of weight throws him off, his mind going blank as his chest hits the marble and pushes the air out of his lungs with an audible " _Oof_ ,"

The still air is then broken by a burst of bright laughter. Jaune twists to look over his shoulder, smiling due to the blossom of happiness in his heart to see Pyrrha standing there. He smiles at her, his train of thought getting lost in just doing that until she manages to shoo the bird away so he can stand up. He's happy to see her in the sweater his mom had made, though a little surprised to see his hoodie on top of it -does she really feel  _that_ cold?

"Good morning," she greets him, still smiling wide enough to raise her cheeks against her eyes. "Tea?" and she offers one of the two mugs in her hands to him.

"Sure." he takes it with a nod. "And good morning to you too." Once he's close enough he reaches out and catches her waist, easing in to kiss her on the cheek before accepting the drink. But before he can step back, her now empty hand cups the back of his head and pulls him back in, taking him by the lips. He hums in surprise but still smiles; this is a more appropriate greeting for them, he decides. "Sorry, I'm all sweaty."

"It's fine." she chuckles, wiping at the bit of it that got on her lip. "Breakfast is almost ready."

"Okay." he nods, taking a sip and loving the soothing warmth it stokes in his stomach. "Do you care if we stay out here a little longer? I know it might be too cold for you, but,"

"No, I'm all right, that's why I bundled up." Pyrrha says as she steps over to the nearest chaise and sits down. She watches as Jaune joins her, loving how he sits as close as he can to her once he's settled. For a moment they're silent, giving her ample opportunity to just watch him, to admire the shape of him underneath his sweat-dampened shirt; he didn't look like this before and she hadn't noticed the difference before their date the other night, but she could certainly get used to it.

"How did you sleep?" he asks.

"Fairly, I suppose. I only woke up once, so that's something." her response is a mixture of genuine optimism and a depressed sigh. "...Momma thinks I need to see a doctor about my nightmares. Well, maybe  _not just_ that,"

Jaune feels himself tense, a part of him simply not prepared for this conversation to get so personal so suddenly. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, drink a little more tea. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm going to need a miracle to find someone who will actually believe me. And even if I do...what could they possibly do?"

Jaune takes another mouthful of tea even though it's too hot, his brow furrowing in both physical and emotional pain. "I...I don't know what to say. I don't know what you need to hear."

"Neither do I." she laughs sadly.

He shrugs quietly. "You could talk to me if it helps. I want you to. I mean...if we're going to be more than partners, we need to learn how to talk to and support one another, don't we?"

Her heart swells and breaks at the same time. "We do, but...I don't think you would understand. There are things...there aren't words for it...you would have had to be there to get it."

He turns to look at her, silent until her gaze meets his. "Try me."

"I," she wants to,  _gods above_ does she want to, what she would give to be able to tell him everything and get it all out of her head. "...I don't think I'm ready, I'm sorry."

"Okay." he leans in and bumps her forehead with his, their noses touching. "When you are, I'm here to listen."

"Thank you."

"Although," he leans away, taking a quick sip and clearing his throat, "if you want, you could call Yang and talk to her. Last I heard she's seeing a therapist right now, so maybe she could give you some advice."

"Oh. Okay." she appears slightly puzzled. In her mind the only Yang she knows is the happy, almost motherly young woman who doted on her sister and cared for her team like they were family. "Is it because she lost her arm?"

"And then some." he doesn't feel at liberty to go into detail. "But, if you want my opinion, I would hope that you would at least consider it. Maybe someone could help you process it and learn how to cope."

"Maybe." And as they slide into another strain of quiet, she lets herself dream of a future where she doesn't hide in her room, crying her eyes out for hours because she feels like she doesn't deserve to live, of days when she feels normal and human, and nights that she doesn't dream of the screams of dying children and the stench of smoke. For a second she follies the idea of being able to look at a whole, uncooked fish without reflexively wanting to puke, or not panicking a little every time she thinks her canines don't fit her mouth. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure." he answers quickly, but gives them both a minute or two before asking, "Have you given any more thought to continuing our training?"

Pyrrha hums in acknowledgment, weighing whether or not she'd rather talk about this. "A little. Well, no," she chuckles breathily. She can't lie to him. "I've been putting it off. Honestly, for the last day or two, all I've wanted to think about was our date."

Jaune smiles without a second thought. "I'm glad you had a good time with me, though I know it wasn't much."

"It didn't need to be."

He nods after a second, finishing the last mouthful of his tea. "Good to know you're easy to please."

Pyrrha giggles to herself, hoping that someday they can find out together just how easy pleasing her might be.

"But, should we decide to keep going, if it's possible I'd like to have Billy continue to help me." he catches Pyrrha's look of surprised curiosity, feeling compelled to explain. "Not to say I don't still need your help -I do, I mean that- but I think I could still learn a lot from them, especially when it comes to taking my lumps." he pauses, watching her for some kind of reaction that never comes. "But you should have the time to focus on yourself, too, and you can't do that if you're too busy teaching me."

An uncomfortable silence settles in, though Jaune can tell by the gentle knit of her brow that she's just thinking, maybe worrying, but only a little. Finally, after a minute, she says "I'll talk to momma about it." and Jaune simply accepts it. Then "I honestly don't know what else I could do with my life if not be a huntress."

"You could do anything you want. We're still young, right?"

She smiles uncertainly. "I know, but...it's what I've always thought I should be, you know?"

"I do, I remember you told me." he nods slowly. "But I don't think anyone would blame you if you changed your mind."

"But I would." she sighs. "It's just...everything is so different now."

"I know." Jaune puts an arm around her and draws her in, hoping she believes that he understands even though he really doesn't. He'll likely never fully comprehend what she means, but he can try his best to let her know he's listening. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

Pyrrha leans in tighter to his side -she'd crawl under his skin if she could- with her temple pressing against the hard edge of his jaw. She wants to tell him thank you, but it doesn't feel like enough and she isn't sure if words in and of themselves would ever be. Still, she'll say it anyway, taking one of his hands in one of hers and bringing it to her mouth to kiss between the first two knuckles.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." by the sound of her voice he thinks she means to change the subject again, an idea he won't protest.

"Well, it's unrelated, but," she worries her lip between her teeth as her thoughts come together, "I'm really curious about something, though I'm hesitant to ask."

"Why, is something wrong?"

"No, not wrong." Pyrrha straightens, still holding his hand. "You just seemed uncomfortable when you brought it up."

He just looks at her for a moment, seeming lost.

"But you said we need to learn to talk to each other, right?"

He blinks, as if his brain just clicked back into place. "Um, yeah, sure. So go ahead, ask what you want."

"Okay." she takes a bracing breath but in a way that makes it seem like she's trying to cover it up. "When you thought I was inviting you to my bed for sex,"

Jaune sputters and his face reddens instantaneously. " _Oh_ ,"

She does her best not to laugh at him; she really wants to because he looks adorable all flustered like he is now, but instead she settles with a smile and squeezes his hand a little tighter. "You said you weren't ready."

"Y-yeah." he's tucking his chin, trying to hide.

"Which I fully respect," she assures him, "though I'll admit that I'm curious as to what I could...do to...help. I don't know about your feelings and ideas surrounding sex, but I'm quite comfortable talking about these things, and I want the same for you."

"O-oh, yeah, well, I mean," he rakes his scalp with his free hand, still unable to look her in the eyes. "It's not like I don't know...or, you know...it's just weird because I've never been in a serious relationship before. And it's  _you_ ."

Pyrrha cocks her head slightly. "What does that mean?"

"Just...you're special to me. And I think that's part of the reason why I don't want to rush into the...physical stuff just yet."

"Could you explain it to me more fully?"

His body expands and contracts and he straightens for a second only to slouch again. "I want to learn all about you, what you love and hate and what makes you laugh so hard your ribs hurt. I want to know how to comfort you when you're sick or scared, and I want you to be able to come to me with anything -  _no matter what_ , I want you to be able to talk to me.

"Even though we've only been...like this for a short while, you already mean so much to me. I just...I want to be sure I do right by you. Before we get that close, I just want to know I'm good enough for you."

"But you  _are_ ,"

"I know you believe that, but  _I_ need to believe it too." he finally looks at her, meeting her hopeful eyes with his own.

Pyrrha wants to cry now, but for the first time in a while it's due to happiness. Her heart is inching towards bursting at his confessed sentiment because it was everything she ever wanted to hear, and again she feels as though anything she could say in response would be woefully insufficient. Thankfully he has more to say, alleviating the little pressure she feels.

"And I'm sure, as we go along, the physical stuff will work it's way in. I think I can handle a little at a time."

"Noted." she lets herself laugh this time.

"But I guess it's different for you? I mean, that's what it sounds like,"

"You're right, in a way." no need to be shy about it, not that she would be. The Minoan district is considered one of the more liberal areas on the Rim; conversations surrounding sex and intimacy are about as common as shaking hands, and Pyrrha's parents had all been very generous in teaching her a healthy understand her body and her feelings. "Safe to say I'm quite attracted to you."

"It's my boyish charm, isn't it?" he smirks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively, playfully, earning a laugh in return.

"It's  _one_ of the things, yes, though that beard might change my opinion for the better. But apart from that, I just respond best to physical affection; my parents always carried me around as a baby, and even as I got older we all still loved to just hold each other -when I was little my sign for Haeda meant cuddles."

"God, that's adorable."

"Just last week I was having a rough time and she just picked me up, carried me to bed, and we took a nap together."

"Do you think she'd be offended if you came to me for that sometimes?" Because he would prefer to know his chances of being crushed beforehand.

"I'll ask her." she grins, though she already knows Haeda won't mind. "So, with all that being said, I'm sure you can guess how much intimacy with you would mean to me, but I'm fine with taking it slow for you. I'm comfortable with whatever you're comfortable with."

"Good to know." he nods. "But I still need to touch you a lot, right? So you know I love you?"

She's blushing, her heart fluttering briefly. "I'd like that. It also means I'm going to want to touch you too, so just be sure to tell me if I go too far."

"Okay, I'll do my best." Though he isn't too sure what that will mean because the last thing he ever thought he'd have to worry about is a girl getting too fresh with him. "Do I need to ask first each time or...?"

"I guess. Maybe not for little things like this," she gestures to their joined hands, "and unless I'm already touching you, of course."

He nods again, then looks at her with one brow raised. "Should I ask for kisses?"

"Yes, but mostly because I like it when you ask." this early on in their courtship, it was an obvious expression of his desire for her, something she desperately needs until they have learned to read more subtle signals. "Can I assume the same goes for you?"

"Yeah, I suppose. Just let me know what you want and I'll see what I can do."

"Well," Pyrrha can feel a touch of heat in her face again, "I _really_ want to kiss you right now."

"Okay," he chuckles softly and nods, "I think I can manage that."

 

_(II)_

"The ferry just docked, so I should be back at the house in a little bit, okay?"

_"Alright, ride safe."_

"Always, kitten. Love you."

_"Love you too."_

Yang listens for the telling click of the disconnect before sliding her scroll back into her pocket. She sighs as her arms cross her chest; a part of her misses the intimacy of her link with Blake, but they had both chosen to give that a break. After what the news had dubbed the Second Battle of Beacon, it seemed better to let it rest a while. Another part of her is baffled at the idea that it had been only a little more than a month since then.

Standing beside Bumblebee she waits, watching the docking ferry lower its ramp to allow passengers to disembark. She unconsciously counts the people one by one, not bothering to keep track of their number, until she finally spots a ribbon of immaculate white hair. Weiss steps off the ferry with all her usual grace and immediately sets eyes on Yang, waving one hand high over her head while the other is occupied with a small duffel bag. Yang will take a few steps away from her bike as she notices her teammate steadily leaning into a brisk jog.

Weiss hops into Yang's arms, expecting the brawler to catch her without a second thought -which she does- and hugs her about the neck.

"Good to see you too, princess." Yang greets softly, giving Weiss a little peck on the cheek before setting her down. "Hope slumming it all the way here didn't inconvenience you too much."

"Not at all, it was actually kind of fun." she laughs. "Even if it did, it was well worth it to get away from...everything for a while." Because it isn't just the weight of running the company on her mind; departing Atlas had given her more baggage than she had expected to be leaving with. But she tells herself it can wait, that it isn't even something for her team to worry about. "I'm _so_ ready for a vacation."

"In that case," Yang steps aside and extends her arm towards her motorcycle, "the Xiaolong Express is ready and waiting to take you to your island retreat."

Weiss can't help but roll her eyes just a little, but she's still smiling. "How has everyone been?" she asks as she manages the straps of the duffel onto her shoulders.

Yang steps astride her bike and pulls her sunglasses down, patting the space on the seat behind her. "They're good, actually. It's been really nice just to be here with each other, real relaxing." Sure she still has hard days, but who doesn't? And now that Yang has her family and girlfriend supporting her, it isn't as bad as it used to be.

"Did Ruby get the packages I sent her?"

"Yeah," Yang nods. "They came in yesterday, but I don't think she's opened them yet. She might have wanted to wait for you."

"Oh, well, alright then." Weiss isn't sure how to feel, though she's caught somewhere between concerned and amused. "How has she been doing? I tried getting in touch with you all,"

"Dad convinced us all to go local only." Yang turns the key, the engine rumbling beneath them. "He didn't want us getting harassed by the news channels and stuff, you know?"

"I was under the impression that no one knew we were there," Because she had received no such calls over the last month.

"Well, you know you can never be too careful with the press." Yang inches her shoulders, the engine revving. "Better hold on tight, princess, the road back is a little bumpy."

"Now, do you actually mean _bumpy_ , or do you mean bumpy as in you drive it like a maniac?"

Yang grins. "You're about to find out."

Weiss locks her arms around Yang's waist and shuts her eyes.

It won't be nearly as bad as Yang made it out to be, in fact Weiss is convinced she said all those things just to wind her up and is only a little embarrassed that it worked. The bike rolls to a stop in front of the charming log house, and once the engine cuts off, Weiss greets Taiyang as he tends the flowerbeds at the foot of the porch steps. He'll return the gesture and invite her to make herself at home as Yang walks her bike to the garage.

Weiss steps into the house, still enchanted by the quaint coziness of the place from the last time she had been here some months passed. She stops in the living room, all her attention snatched up by a curt, high-pitched bark. Zwei leaps down from his spot on the couch and scrambles across the floor to greet her, hindquarters and tongue wagging excitedly all the way. Weiss drops her bag and kneels down, cooing sweetly at the dog as she scoops him up and holds him like one would hold a baby.

Blake is on the same sofa, her legs tucked up close, her uncovered feline ears tilted towards the new sounds in the room before her eyes lift from the book in her hands. She smiles when she does decide to look up, partly because Weiss is cute when she plays with Zwei, and partly because the dog is now further away from her. Blake marks her page after a moment and sets the book down as she stands, and then proceeds with no real hurry across the room. She waits, amused to watch for almost a full minute as Weiss nuzzles the corgi's belly with her face.

Zwei barks and starts to squirm in Weiss' arms when he realizes Blake is nearby, his feet working as if to try and pull himself closer, a frantic motion that draws Weiss' attention upward.

"Oh, Blake, sorry I didn't realize you were here."

"It's fine." she grins, and then opens her arms and sets her eyes in a beckoning way.

Weiss just smiles as she bends down to set Zwei on the floor, immediately taking a step forward as she straightens to put her arms around Blake. The dichotomy of their magic twines together when they embrace, the small hairs on their bodies bristling but in a good way, and at their feet Zwei scrambles in repeating circles.

"It's good to see you." Blake continues.

"You too, I missed you." Weiss replies, giving her friend one last squeeze before stepping back. "How have you been?"

"It's been so quiet, I've been able to get a lot of reading done. That is," she smirks, "when Yang lets me."

"Is everything okay? I mean, as okay as they can be?"

"Yeah." Blake nods. "Just, after what happened, she's almost _too_ attentive, if that makes any sense. I have to remind her that I'm not so fragile sometimes, but we've talked about it and she's making an effort."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." Weiss then pulls herself back completely, her hands folding in front of her as she takes a quick look around the room. "Is Ruby home?"

"Yeah, I think she's napping upstairs."

Then, as if on cue, the distinct punctuations of rushing footsteps vibrates from somewhere at the top of the staircase just behind Blake. She steps aside as Weiss steps forward, giving the heiress a wide berth on the chance that her assumptions as to what's coming are correct, which they are. Ruby all but leaps down from the top landing, taking the stairs three at a time until she reaches the bottom and surges forward to catch Weiss in her arms with a squeal of joy. Ruby has her by the waist, holding her almost too tightly as the two make two full rotations. When Weiss' feet are back on the floor she barely has a second to get her bearings straight before Ruby unleashes a volley of kisses, getting her cheeks and forehead and nose before placing a more earnest, longer lived one on her lips. Whatever Weiss had to say got lost in that kiss, and she didn't complain even after it had ended. In fact, all she can think about is how much she had missed Ruby, missed her presence, her touch, her warmth.

"You're _finally_ here," Ruby squeezes again, "gods above, it's so good to see you."

"You too." that second squeeze forces some of the air out of her lungs as well as a less than refined noise. "Ruby, I love you, but I need air to live,"

Ruby sets her down gently. "Sorry." She has to verbalize everything because she knows their mental link is absolutely _bonkers_ with all the things she's thinking and trying to think, and she's actually grateful that Weiss is actively blocking it right now. "Did you have a nice trip?"

"I did."

"You want to put your stuff in my room," then she makes a face, her expression stretching, "or you could use the guest room, I didn't mean to assume-,"

"Wherever you expect me to stay," Weiss smiles at her, hoping it brings her down a little, "though I would prefer to stay with _you_."

Ruby blushes, the faint redness bringing out the mercury of her eyes.

"I'll take your bag." Blake offers, snatching up the duffel. "Now that you're here, Ruby can stop killing us with suspense and open those boxes you sent."

"Ooh yeah, c'mon!" She doesn't give her partner a chance to protest, snatching her by the wrist to all but drag her along behind. The pair of them round the staircase and disappear behind it into a short, hidden hallway, and Blake just watches with an easy smirk on her face before she heads up to Ruby's room.

Ruby pulls open the door at the end of the hall, and Weiss knows the smell of a workshop before Ruby even finds the light switch and flips it on. It's the pungent, unforgettable mixture of oil and fuel and concrete and dust; while she herself had never spent much time in such spaces, her countless visits to Atlesian bases and Dust refineries helped imprint it on her mind.

The walls are lined with shelves loaded down with tool boxes and jars of nuts and bolts, alongside all other sorts of hardware. One set of shelves is nothing but cans of primer and paints, a majority of them being shades of yellow and red. Most of the tools are hung in obvious patterns on a peg board, each implement fitted inside its drawn outline. In the middle of the room is a table and workbenches that flank two of its sides, and on the table are three stacks of boxes that vary in size. Each of them are stark white save for an almost invisible layer of dust, not nearly enough to skew the steely gray insignia of Atlas.

"It's nice to see you so excited." Weiss says as she stands at one corner of the table, watching as Ruby rounds it to the far side. "It's almost like you know what it is."

"Well, first, I love getting presents," Ruby chuckles, "and two, I had a good feeling because it's from you, and I know you want to take care of me."

"True enough." Weiss feels herself blush and she isn't sure why. "So are you going to open it?"

Ruby catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she smiles at the same time, her body vibrating with an exited shudder before she reached for one of the boxes. Weiss knows it's heavy but the way Ruby handles it makes it seem lighter than anything, sparking a memory of admiration at her Team Leader's strength. As the lid comes off the package, Weiss leans over the table, bracing on her hands as anticipation pulls her heart -she hopes Ruby likes her gift.

Ruby still has her lip between her teeth as she stares at the particularly curved length of steel that catches the glare of the light overhead, but lets it go as awe settles in. Still smiling she sighs and looks to her partner. "Like I said, I had a feeling."

"I hope it's all the parts you need." Weiss says, sounding like she's partly defending herself. "But if it isn't, I can get them."

"I know you can," Ruby rounds the table to Weiss' side, "my princess can do anything." and she kisses her cheek, giggling at the incredible redness that comes over her Maiden's face. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome." Weiss is partly trying to hide her face, reflexive, but somehow convinces herself not to. "S-so, is there anything I can do to help you put it together?"

"Actually, yeah, it's one of the reasons I waited." Ruby admits. "I wanted all of us here because I thought it would be cool if you three could help me build it."

Weiss had a lot of plans for today, a mental itinerary of how she meant for everything to go right down to the minute. She had plans for conversations she wanted to have - _so many_ conversations that she felt a _need_ to have, especially with Ruby- but all of that suddenly disappeared, not forgotten but set aside to make room for something jarringly more important. They didn't need to talk about continuing their training; of course they're going to because it's Ruby Rose and she was born to be a huntress and gods help whoever tries to claim otherwise. They didn't need to discuss Weiss' conversation with General Ironwood about them attending Atlas Academy, or her still startling revelation with him. They didn't even have to talk about whether or not Ruby remembered anything else from their last visit to Beacon because, at the moment, none of that matters more to her than this.

Seeing Ruby so happy in spite of everything -though part of Weiss is cynical of it- and her being so ready to put herself back out there, going so far as to invite all of them into the fold of such a personal matter, gave Weiss immeasurable hope. And as long as Ruby wanted to hold onto this, Weiss wasn't going to do anything to tarnish it. Whatever worries she holds would keep, she knows that for certain, and would creep up again in their own time, so no need to let them weigh on her right now.

"That's sounds wonderful." Weiss nods, the gesture just enough to shake her focus back to the here and now. "Want me to go get Blake and Yang?"

"In a minute. You think you could help me go through all these boxes first?"

"Of course." Weiss smiles, taking a package off the stack closest to her and pulling it open, revealing a selection of steel rods and plates resting atop a sheet of foam padding. "Should I catalog and organize all the pieces into groups?"

Ruby snickers. "If it'll make you happy."

Weiss chuffs. "You won't be laughing when you can't find something."

"But I'll be able to find it because you organized everything." and Ruby loves the way her girlfriend's face scrunches when she doesn't come up with a response. She then opens up another box, gasping with delight when she realizes it's full of packing peanuts. Without hesitation she grabs a modest handful and hurls it at her partner who is woefully unprepared. Because of the static most of them stick to Weiss' hair and face, and when she lifts her eyes to give Ruby a scathing glare, Ruby can't stop the eruption of laughter that follows.

Weiss straightens, the severity of her expression leveling into something neutral as she casually rounds the table. Ruby has her hands over her mouth to muffle her ceaseless giggles, watching while Weiss removes the heavier contents of the small box -the parts needed to construct a bolt and chamber for a gun- and sets them aside in a row. Then, without further ado, she dumps the entirety of the remaining packing peanuts over Ruby's head. The bits of foam stick to her hair and shoulders and hands, but only seem to serve to make her laugh that much harder. It takes some doing, but after a good minute, Ruby manages to rein herself in a little. Wiping her eyes she pants, "I missed you so much."

Weiss puts her fists on her hips, shaking her head but with an adoring smirk. "I missed you too." And the admission sounds playfully reluctant. "Now let's clean up and get to work." She'll get maybe half a dozen of the foam pieces out of Ruby's hair before her partner suddenly lunges in and grabs her up in a surprisingly tight hug. "Oh,"

"I _really_ missed you." Ruby repeats quietly, unsure if the little tremor of desperation rattled between them both or not.

"Ruby, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be all right, just," she swallows the thickness in her throat, unable to remember when it got there, "tell me we don't have to be apart like that again for a while, okay?"

Weiss has a terrible feeling that this is part of something so much bigger than Ruby's letting on. This can't just be separation anxiety, she can sense it, but she doesn't think it's the right time to call her out on it. Just like her own worries, surely that could wait. Instead she just smiles and hugs Ruby back, softly kissing her cheek. "You and me are going to stick together, whether we like it or not."

"Alright." and the response sounds tight, like she might start to cry. She sniffles, easing back only enough that she can look Weiss in the eyes without letting go. Ruby looses one arm so she can carefully brush a bit of foam from Weiss' face, her hand cupping the smaller huntress' cheek. _I love you_.

Weiss shivers at the intimate warmth of the thought as it eases through her, immediately responding without hesitation. _I love you too. I'm glad we're together again._

_So am I._

_The only thing that could make this moment better is if it wasn't so obvious how much taller you are than me._ And though her mental tone is obviously miffed, she still smiles when Ruby chuckles.

_But if we were the same height,_ this _wouldn't be nearly as romantic,_ Ruby hooks Weiss' chin with one finger, tilting it upwards and smirking before kissing her Maiden on the lips slowly, making sure she really feels it as well as the affectionate vibrations along their link. When they separate, Ruby watches her, amused as Weiss' eyelids flutter as if waking from a pleasant dream. "Don't you agree?"

"You," it takes a second, but Weiss blinks back to full awareness, "you make a solid point. Now can we _please_ clean up this mess?"

"Okay, okay," Ruby nods, conceding. She bends down and gathers up a handful of foam to deposit back in its proper box. "Oh, and I think I know what I'm going to name it when it's finished."

"Hm?" Weiss straightens, hands full of peanuts as well. "You mean you won't just call it Crescent Rose?"

"Nah, I heard it's bad luck." she shakes her head. "I wanted to name this one Osiria Edge. You know...for us."

Weiss goes back to cleaning up, intentionally hiding the fresh redness in her cheeks. "It's a beautiful name."

 

_(III)_

Fostering is a fairly common practice in all four kingdoms, though Vacuo is known to make use of it in the highest frequency due to the remote villages and nomadic groups that roam the central deserts. In short, it allows aspiring hunters without the means to attend the academies to study at home, under the watchful eye of an appointed team and academy official, and still receive their legal credentials as if they had gone to a proper school. But it's also an alternative for students that had fallen behind in their studies for any one of a myriad of reasons that include, but aren't limited to life changes, serious injury, prolonged illness and so forth -students like those of Team JNPR.

The four of them are in Pyrrha's room, piled on the bed and waiting while the pack of adults convene at the dining table. They could have been a part of the discussion, but for Pyrrha's sake they retreated here to help her cope with a bout of anxiety. Per Pyrrha's request, Nora is currently jet-packing for her beloved teammate, arms and legs around her with her head resting between Pyrrha's shoulder blades. All the while Pyrrha busies herself with a puzzle box, anything to keep it together so her thoughts don't overwhelm her. She isn't sure what's stressing her more, the placement test they had already taken, or how many people showed up for this meeting. Headmaster Lionheart came all the way from Haven along with one of his top administrators to give them the test, but Glynda, Tag and Billy, and even Maab made the trip from Vale as well. Pyrrha could understand why Glynda was here, even Billy after a stretch since she and Rhea agreed that they could tutor Jaune, but Maab's attendance left her guessing. Every time she attempts to figure it out she has to stop and take a breath, redirecting her focus to something less daunting, like her friends.

"They have already agreed to let your mothers foster us," Ren says softly.

"Yeah," Jaune adds, "because you know you aced that test."

"I know. Even though the point of that test wasn't to  _ace it_ , per se." Pyrrha replies, hoping she sounds more stable than she feels. "I just...I didn't want to hear them talking about me like I'm not there."  _because I know they will._ "You know how adults can be." Though it isn't just that, it's a concern born of her most recent nightmare; attending her own funeral -if there had been one- and  _everyone_ speaking about her in the past tense though she seemed to be  _right there_ wasn't the worst dream she has had, but it quickly found a high spot on her list.

Nora squeezes a little tighter because she isn't sure what she can say to comfort Pyrrha, and she smiles when she feels a pat of acknowledgment against her arm.

"But I am glad we'll be able to stay here." Pyrrha sighs after a moment. "I don't know if I could handle going back to school."

"I'm sure they all understand," Jaune assures her, "at least enough to know that kind of environment might make it harder for you. Maybe that's why Glynda and Maab came, maybe they're in there backing you up."

And while she is certainly grateful if that's the case, a part of her feels obligated and she would rather not. "Maybe." she exhales.

Jaune watches her from where he sits at the head of the bed, his brow knit as he contemplates just how much concern his partner is trying to mask. "Can I do anything for you, Pyrrha?"

Her hands pause for the first time in a while, and she looks at him with a particular smile, one he knows she makes just for him. "No, but thank you."

Jaune smiles back, accepting her answer though it isn't the one he was hoping for, but he doesn't settle. He sits up, scooting his way to the edge of the bed where Pyrrha and Nora sit, and then proceeds to come in slowly to prop his chin on her shoulder. When she looks at him, quizzical, he just smirks with an almost puppy-like innocence in his eyes. This manages to get a little laugh out of her as well as earns Jaune a kiss on the lips.

" _Aw_ , you two are so  _adorable_ !" Nora gushes, her face pushing into Pyrrha's back. "Now I need one! Ren! Kiss me!"

Ren steps away from his place propped against the desk, and then bends over the foot of the bed so Nora can reach him. One kiss quickly turns into a noisy half dozen and a flurry of laughter from all four of them, just enough to break up the little tension floating around the room.

Rhea will come for them after a spell, though she lingers just outside the door when she hears the laughter coming from behind it. She finds herself smiling, comforted to hear Pyrrha's voice among the bright echoes, and she hates to have to break it up when she taps gently on the door before pushing her way in. That smile grows wider when she sees them all piled atop the bed, limbs half tangled together and faces red.

"Would you all mind sparing a few minutes for Professor Goodwitch and her mother? They wish to say goodbye before they go." she'll admit to a touch of surprise when they agree so readily.

Maab and Glynda aren't the hugging types, which is just fine as far as the young hunters are concerned. However they are content to explain themselves as to the reason for their visit.

"Leo would have asked Ozpin to attend," Glynda shifts on her heels, chin tucked briefly as she clears her throat, "so he contacted me instead. He wanted first hand assessments as to where you all were in regards to your studies as well as an educated opinion of how far you all still need to go."

"And you came all the way here for a half hour meeting?" Jaune cocks his head.

"Well, I thought it was a discussion best had in person, considering the rather unique nature of your team's circumstances, but there was another reason."

"I got in touch with Kiriin's relatives, and they wanted a share of Salem's remains for their family crypt." Maab speaks up, adjusting the strap of the small bag hanging on her shoulder. "It's tradition that Glynda and I deliver it." And the elder Witch sniffles, likely the closest anyone has come to seeing her cry in a  _very_ long time.

"I'm sorry." Pyrrha says reflexively.

"Oh, dear, you of all people have  _nothing_ to apologize for." Maab seems to laugh in spite of herself. "Ah, speaking of which," the Fox Faunus carefully reaches into the bag, not having to dig too deep, "I found this at the hospital when I was collecting all the gear I had lent out. I knew it wasn't mine," and she pulls out a circle of bronze that Pyrrha immediately recognizes.

"O-oh, thank you, I...I guess I just forgot it." and all Pyrrha can do is stare at it once she has it in her hands, a strange surreality settling over her.

"But according to Headmaster Lionheart," Glynda continues, "your liaison from Haven should be in town within the next two weeks with the first batch of your curriculum, so it might be wise for you to refresh yourselves on whatever you can."

The four of them nod, thinking that sufficient enough of an answer, and Glynda takes that as a cue to make her way out after paying proper respect to the ladies of the house. Maab lingers long enough to do the same as well as offer her grandson a handshake and the parting advice of "Fight hard, study harder."

Pyrrha will watch them both leave, unsure of how she feels about...anything, really. Her eyes drift up and down, from the back door to the coronet she holds until her gaze settles there. Then her head snaps up when she feels the weight and warmth of a hand on her shoulder.

"Everything okay?" Jaune asks, that same innocent sincerity from earlier flickering in his eyes.

"I...it's just," she bites her lip, "it almost feels like it isn't mine. Like it belongs to someone else...someone better than me."

He tucks closer, wishing he had something encouraging to say but the best he can come up with is an almost timid "I love you." And while he doesn't know it, that helps her more than anything else.

 

 

Author's Note: This chapter feels weird too, maybe it's just me, I dunno. But I'm certain my brain is just getting tired. Next chapter will start off with Cinder -we'll finally get one of the last pieces to her part in this story, followed by some more Arkos which I hope I can pull off because it's gonna be steamy. After that is the epilogue. That's right, there's two chapters left and then this mammoth project will be put to bed. Thanks to everyone who has supported me and enjoyed my work, I appreciate all of you.

 


	67. Chapter Sixty-Six

Mercury still isn't sure what day it is or why his head still hurts so gods damn much, but he counts himself lucky that he's fairly certain of where he is and who it is sitting in front of him. Having woken up to find himself in the hideaway behind the falls in Mistral brought a certain comfort, as did seeing Cinder as she apparently waited to give him something like an explanation, but that comfort is short lived as he's quick to realize something isn't entirely _right_ about her and he can't put his finger on it.

Sitting up in his bed, Mercury rakes his scalp and yawns, his brow knitting through the surge of pain behind his eyes. "What...the fuck..." it isn't really a question, but at the same time it is. When he opens his eyes again and looks at her, he finds it almost unsettling that she isn't meeting his gaze in her usually shameless way; she's staring at her folded hands as they rest atop her crossed legs, and her posture is so tight that her back doesn't touch the back of the chair. Even when she speaks she won't look at him.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asks softly.

"Atlas...Branwen...pretty much it." he replies, his voice rough-edged and dry.

She nods, seemingly to herself, and wonders if he knows what she did to him. "That was...some time ago."

"I guessed, considering _here_ isn't _there_. How long?"

"Weeks." is all she says, as she can't quite recall exactly the time between now and then.

Mercury accepts the answer, not having the energy to press, and shifts around to put his feet on the floor before rubbing his eyes. He'll lift his head after that, looking at her again, this time with a noticeable scrutiny compared to seconds ago. She still won't meet his eyes, but he doesn't much care.

"You know," he starts easily, his expression holding its inquisitive twist, "part of me wants to ask what happened, but another part of me is thinking I don't want to know." because something about this, all of it, seems so very wrong; it feels like he isn't seeing Cinder at all, but an imposter in her skin. Even the energy in the room isn't like he knows it should be.

When he realizes that she has nothing to say, and that no amount of staring was going to give him any more information than it had, he hunches and props his elbows on his thighs. "Is Emerald all right?"

"She's recovering."

"Gods," he exhales, "guess you did a real number on her this time, didn't you?"

Cinder feels her ribs clench hard, painfully, it even registers in her face with a flinch of her brow. She knows he has every right to be suspicious of her, and she hates that, and now all she can think about is how cruel she has been to both of them. It's why she can't and won't deny it, even though his assumption is only a little inaccurate.

Mercury shakes his head. "Neo?"

"I don't know." she readily answers, seeing a chance to change the subject enough to stand. "I looked for her," Cinder thinks back to Beacon, now a month behind her, and the blood-spattered crater in the pavement near the school. It had been the last place she sensed Neo's presence, but something happened after the last they saw of one another to sever their bond and make Cinder lose track of her. All that had been left were crimson drag marks leading away from the caved in cement and the scorched handle of her stiletto.

"Well...I'd say not hearing from her is strange, but,"

"That's in poor taste even for  _you_ ."

Mercury's face kinks with a touch of curious surprise; she sounded so  _serious_ , almost chastising, and thought of her actually meaning to reprimand him throws him for a loop. "Alright, now I  _need_ to know what the hell is going on. What happened to you?"

Finally she looks at him, letting him catch a glimpse of a physical manifestation of all the things he felt were amiss. Her eyes are different, the molten gold having a certain pure clarity that wasn't there before having replaced the once menacing brimstone glow. Mercury reaches back to touch the mark on his neck on some strange impulse and finds it's no longer there, the dull heat of it nonexistent.

Cinder takes a deep breath, bracing herself before starting into the long account of what occurred during his coma. She isn't sure how to feel about the myriad of changes that come over his face as she goes, and still doesn't as her story of what happened at Beacon ended and the truth of who she is began. There came a point where the only expression he seemed capable of is a blank sort of shock, which, all things considered, Cinder could empathize with in spite of how unfamiliar the feeling still is.

When she's finally done, the two of them sit in uncomfortable silence for what feels like hours. They don't look at each other, more so at anywhere _but_. Mercury rubs his face with his palm, realizing he needs to shave before he starts to resemble his father too much.

He shrugs. "Sounds like nothing went according to plan."

Cinder's brows lift, the only change to come over her face as she stares into her lap some more. "At least, not to  _my_ plan anyway."

"You're taking it awful well."

Again, she knows he's right. This is usually the point where she would be looking for someone to take her frustration out on, but that isn't who she is anymore. Or, it is, but she realizes it and wishes it didn't feel so true.

"What was it all for, then?"

"I don't know." it's the only answer she can find, though she knows it's a piss poor one.

"So what are we going to do now?"

"I don't know." she repeats, this time shaking her head in hopes that he won't notice that her tone and expression haven't changed. "I mean...you can stay or go if you want. The work won't be the same, if there is any for that matter. And if you want to leave I'll make sure you get where you want to go, give you what you need to support yourself for a while."

His face morphs again, this time into something she can't name. "So...is this Vatra talking? Because it sure as shit doesn't sound like Cinder,"

"We're one and the same, I don't know how to explain it any better than that."

"But...you haven't always been, right?"

"I mean...I've always been, I just...I didn't know."

"And having your soul split...that's what made you such a huge bitch? And now that you're whole again you feel bad about it?"

Cinder knows what he's doing, hell, she taught him how to do it, to spot the vulnerability in someone and exploit it. Maybe he knows she won't retaliate, otherwise he wouldn't have had the guts to talk to her like that to start with. Part of her wonders how long it had taken him to pick up on it.

"No." she eventually answers. "I mean no to the first part; I was a bitch all by myself." Though she thinks "bitch" is much too kind a word. Even if Mercury is somewhat right -her not being a Witch caused the ritual to form a rift in her soul, a vacancy that would have been filled with magic had she any- she still could have chosen not to treat him and Emerald and Neo so poorly. Being incomplete, being wholly cutoff from feeling certain emotions, wasn't an excuse in her eyes.

"But," she continues uneasily, "I know I was wrong. I did wrong by all of you, and I'm sorry."

"And you actually expect me to buy that?" he chuffs. "I doubt  _sorry_ has ever meant a damn thing to me, especially from  _you_ . Not that I've ever heard you say it before, but still,"

_Fair enough_ , she thinks painfully, like the pulse of a wound. Yet, strangely, she smiles. "Then it's safe to assume you won't stay?"

"Nothing personal, but I want to get as far away from you as possible."

"One could hardly blame you for that." she nods. "Give me a day or two and I'll have some money...whatever else you think you'll need."

Now he stares at her, his dark eyes unyielding and suspicious. "You'll just set me up and let me go? Just like that?"

"Yes." No hesitation, the most like herself she has appeared to him since he'd laid eyes on her.

"You won't follow me? Have me tabbed?"

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm sure you don't." and she's certain no amount of lip service would change his mind. "Still, that's my offer, you're welcome to take it or leave it."

Mercury watches her stand up, his eyes tracking her as she steps away from him towards the door; he's looking for any tell that this might all be a bunch of horse shit like he thinks it is, any misstep that would give her a way, but there isn't any. Though her gait and carriage is nothing like he remembers -bereft of all pomp and ego-, he can see that it's natural, and all he reads is what it telegraphs: resignation.

Cinder pulls the door open, pausing for a moment to look back at him. "I'll be around if you need anything." Then she steps out of the room, never mind any response from Mercury. He had nothing else to say anyway.

Entering the hallway and closing the door behind her feels like coming up for air, an invisible weight tumbling from her ribcage and allowing her to breathe at last. As she walks, heading for her own room, her mind wanders away from the discomfort of where she had been and into a still poorly organize catalog of memories. Cinder has no choice but to navigate them backwards, beginning with now until she can visualize her earliest recollections in her mind, from the startling image of Barren to the nostalgic half comfort of her birth mother's face.

She was first born from Dust as Zerline's youngest daughter, the second of three children and a Faunus like her older sister. When Seren first told her that she wasn't sure she believed it until she felt stiff stems of pinfeathers growing beneath her hair; that was weeks ago and now they were starting to show through, but were only clearly visible when they caught the light. Her soul being fragmented had stopped the physical manifestations of her heritage, mirroring the disconnect of her spirit.

Phoenix, Seren had called her, and a part of Cinder knew it from eons ago, back when they were children together. She remembers dying and rising from the fire, cycling her life over and over and living hundreds of different lives; she had been worshiped as a god, ruled as Queen of Vacuo when it bore a name no one still alive knows, waged war against Grimm as both soldier and general, and had also been slain by the creatures as a common woman with a life away from her mother and siblings. She remembers the first funeral ever held by humans and Faunus, the birth of the first child not born of Dust as she was, she remembers husbands and wives and children and grandchildren, and she remembers losing it all time and again.

When every life ended, a new one began with an infant in a nest of ashes. That is, save for this most recent occurrence when the magic went awry.

With care Cinder will open her bedroom door, mindful of whining hinges as she lets herself inside and quickly shuts herself in. The comfort she finds here now is minimal, only so much as a space you own can bring, though she looks around to realize again that it no longer truly suits her. This room felt like an altar to vicious, callous ambition, something she still housed in her alongside her Maiden powers, but not in her soul as it once seemed to be. Part of her contemplates tearing down the walls and starting over, while another part considers leaving the place altogether and never coming back. For a moment her eyes shift between the bed and the bathing pool, but eventually settle on the glass-domed fire pit. A twist of her wrist calls the flames from the ashes, the too-silent and too-still air now alight with sound and heat, and then pacifies herself with sitting at the foot of her bed to watch it.

She becomes so distracted that she never hears the solid but gentle knocking on her door, only responding when the hinges squeal. Her head snaps around, visibly started and feeling the flex of pinfeathers beneath her hair -reminding her that they used to stand straight up whenever she was surprised well enough.

"Good day, sister." Seren is half leaning through the door, hoping to offer a greeting before having to hunch over and squeeze her massive frame through the door.

"Hey." she replies, feeling a bit informal with her response. "Everything as it should be?"

"Aye." Seren couples the answer with a curt nod as she approaches the stone slab of the bed, sprawling across the width of it with Cinder beside her hip. Her large, clawed hand rests palm-up, fingers stretched as if waiting. Cinder will respond after a moment, reciprocating and meeting her sister's toothy smile with one of her own.

Everything had been so hard to process the first few days following their flight from Vale, not to say it was easy now, and Seren had been there to help her through it, to soothe her through the tears and the confusion in a way she somehow knew Seren always had. The Dragon Faunus had always been the one to look for her when her lives began again, sometimes successful, sometimes not, but she would always try, and Cinder found herself unquestioningly believing her still. As ridiculous as all of this sounded, even to her, she knew it was true down to the marrow of her bones.

And Seren had still been searching for her after she had become Jabberwocky; in some psychic sort of way she tried to reach out to her, and it had been Cinder's presence during Beacon's fall, coupled with the powers of a Maiden, that pulled the Progenitor from its sleep and not just the negative emotions of those running for their lives.

"Have you remembered anything else?" Seren asks softly.

Cinder feels her heart hitch. "Some, yes."

"Mother?"

Another tight clutch behind her ribs. "Yes."

"Brother?"

This time Cinder only nods, her throat feeling too tight, and she hopes Seren can see her discomfort enough not to ask about it.

"...Brother is gone, isn't he? For good?" and her sister's silence tells her everything she needs to know, and if it hadn't, the way Cinder withdraws her hand and seems to shrink into herself is sufficient. She won't ask if Cinder was responsible, though a part of her is dying to. "Then would you tell me what happened to mother?"

"I...yes, I just realized you weren't there." Then Cinder clears her throat, attempting to get the first few words straight in her head. "Mother and I...we had a disagreement. She thought creating the Maidens was the answer, and all I wanted was to save you."

Seren chuckles. "I wish I could say I'm surprised."

Cinder tilts her head, shoulders inching. It's true, she and Zerline often were at odds with each other in all of her respective lifetimes, but never like the instance she's referring to. Cinder had felt justified in her anger and right in her resistance to Zerline's plan to create the Maidens, which would ultimately end the First Witch's life, but it hadn't been for the obvious reasons.

_I made your mirror, now keep your promise!_ The memory echoes with tangible clarity. _You swore we would save Seren!_

_I am. Barren has grown too strong for you or I, it's up to humanity now._

_How can you trust them? Don't you know that some of the humans_ _**hate** _ _us? Even some of our own kin hate us!_

_But so many more still love us and are willing to fight._

_I don't care! Don't do this!_

_This is the best way, Vatra._

_So help me, I'll shatter it! I shouldn't have made it in the first place, not until my sister was free, but I'll shatter it and not craft a second until she is!_

_You must understand-_

_**No** _ _! I'm not just going to stand by while you force Seren to suffer!_

"You couldn't have known what she knew," Seren says, like she can hear what's going through Cinder's head, "mother saw things we couldn't, you knew that."

"Of course I did, but I didn't want to believe it. It wasn't fair." Cinder's hands curl into fists against her biceps. "You had fought so hard...I felt like mother was abandoning you."

"So what did you do?"

"What I said I would; I meant to destroy the mirror so she would make good on her promise."

"But, all things considered, one would assume it didn't turn out the way you planned."

"She struck me down, and that's the last I remember of that life."

"Hmm." Seren nods. Then she sits up with a tight grunt, her massive hand settling on Cinder's shoulder, and she waits until her sister turns her head to smile. "Thank you."

"Don't. You always looked out for me, why wouldn't I do the same?"

"Well, with your soul parted or intact, you had free will, and you chose to defy mother for my sake."

"Defiance is in my nature."

"Oh, I remember." she offers another grin. "Mother often said you were meant to be her opposite. Still, you could have just as easily gone along with her, so I feel a touch of gratitude is in order."

Cinder feels something unfamiliar stirring in her heart, but it's brief, too short lived to be named before she covers it up with a scowl and turns away. "I'm still so angry with her."

"I would imagine so, but you see how it turned out all the same? Why not just accept it?"

"I've never been one to 'just accept it'." And she feels she never will be, never mind how many more lifetimes she will live. Cinder then rakes her scalp, mindful of the pinfeathers in spite of the unconsciousness of the movement, and shakes her head hard as if to scatter something. "Let's talk about something else."

"So long as you continue to talk." Seren scoots to the end of the bed, mimicking her sister's posture once her feet are on the floor. Her massive body then expands and contracts with a shallow sigh. "The orb still gives off this little...pulse of energy, but is otherwise unchanged."

"Hm. Good."

Watching her, Seren continues with "I think we should look for a more secure place to hide it. Not right away, but soon." and then her face skews, her snowy brows cocking unevenly when all Cinder does is nod. "...That's not on your mind at all, is it?"

"Of course it is." Cinder says quickly, though there isn't much weight behind the words.

"Not right now, or, at the very least, not so much as something else." Seren leans in close, eying her little sister knowingly.

Cinder catches her gaze and feels herself leaning away, maintaining distance and feeling her pinfeathers trying to rise at the pressure of Seren's glare. "What?"

"Why not just come out with it?"

Cinder frowns a little, then a lot, and then stands up in a singular and rushed motion. Seren continues to watch her, knowing damn good and well that she is just trying to hide. Then she visibly winces when the Dragon Faunus continues with "Emerald asked about you again."

"Not by name, I'd wager." because fate hates her.

"No," Seren lilts her head, "but you can't keep hiding from her."

"I know." she's known it for weeks. "I know, but...right now I feel like I don't have the right to even _think_ about her."

"That's beside the point,"

"Maybe if I give her more time she'll remember on her own,"

"What difference-"

"You don't understand," and each of Cinder's words are punctuated, harsh, "you don't know how terrible I was to her -to _all_ of them."

"Perhaps she would be willing to forgive you,"

"But I don't _deserve it_." she bites back. "I used her, I used all of them, and that doesn't change just because I'm able to feel guilty about it. Really, it would be best if you and I just left this place and disappeared." And she thinks of what Mercury said - _get as far away from you as possible-_ realizing now just how right he was.

"But they need you right now, and if you're feeling so guilty then the least you could do is take proper care of them for the time being."

With a quiet groan Cinder rests her face against her palm, her thumb and forefinger pressing into her eyes through the closed lids. She's right, Cinder knows she's right, but she doesn't have to like it and she's grateful for that because she really doesn't. It feels like swallowing hot lead. "I'll need your help." she admits reluctantly.

"No worries, sister, I'm here for you."

 

_(II)_

It's the middle of the night and Pyrrha sits atop her bed, shivering and drenched in sweat though she is still fully dressed. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, certainly not without getting beneath her blankets first, but she must have dozed off some hours ago without notice. It was at least long enough for her brain to register something akin to being cold which, she had come to discover, somehow made her nightmares worse. But then she remembered how that _thing_ hated the cold, so it made sense.

After snapping awake she did her best to get her breathing under control, anything to stop herself from screaming in terror and sobbing loud enough to wake the rest of the house -something she neither wanted nor needed; she had managed to go four months now without such a scene, and preferred to keep it that way. Her breaths are deep and steadily slowing, her heart rate working towards something similar. Her ribs are throbbing like her skull, and blood pounds through her ears but it isn't enough to drown out the echoes of her dreams.

Pyrrha forces her back to straighten, her palms dragging down her sweat-slick face before she blinks her blurred vision clear. Her side table light is still on, an open textbook caught in its pale glow, and she remembers what led up to this; she had just wanted some space and time to herself after a little breakdown from earlier today, a surprisingly hard blow to the chest during training enough to derail whatever focus and stability she had. After that she isolated herself, only emerging long enough to have dinner and assure everything that she would be all right. Now she feels touch-starved but also repulsive, even to herself, and all she wants is to tear out of her own skin.

She feels fragile as she tries to get out of bed with the hope that cleaning herself up would help, and she shakes hard enough to almost fall to her knees. Her face scrunches up, fighting the frailty as best she can while also ignoring the thought of crawling around on all fours to get where she means to go, and not just because it would be easy for her. It takes a moment, but she forces herself to stand up like a proper human being, bracing herself on her bed and side table until she stabilizes and can walk on her own. Pyrrha will make a quick check of the dark hallway outside her door, finding the rest of the house still as expected, and then hurries off to the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes draped over one arm.

The bathroom is filling with steam in a matter of minutes, the water coming out of the shower head just shy of scalding hot; Pyrrha needs to warm up, not just get clean. She quickly strips down and tries to ignore the scars she can see in the mirror as she ties her hair up into a messy bun, then ducks behind the shower curtain after unconsciously checking her canines with her tongue to make sure they're still the right size.

The water is so hot it hurts, but not in the same way her heart does, so the two pains meet in the middle and create an almost soothing white noise in her nerves that eventually rises into her head. Everything becomes foggy, almost blank, and finally she feels like she can breathe right as stinging droplets pelt her face. She washes herself with heavy hands and hooked fingers, unconsciously hoping she'll find the fault line where she feels she's coming apart and just tear it open to make this awful feeling stop -that is the feeling of her own skin being not only alien, but ill-fitting and caustic. After a moment she'll start shaking again, her knees buckling, and the tears surge upward before she can swallow them back down. She feels safe enough here to let herself be vulnerable, so goes along with the gut wrenching purge. Pyrrha wouldn't say she feels better when it passes, only that she's level, which would be considered progress if she weren't so exhausted. 

She's quick to dry off and dress in the bundle of warm clothes she brought with her, bitterly chuffing at herself for still needing a sweater in late Spring. With her dirty clothes tucked under her arm, she shuts off the light and steps out into the now chilly feeling hallway. As she creeps back towards her room the isolation begins to settle back in, only this time it isn't so welcome, and the need to not feel so alone is swiftly overwhelming her.

She notices that the house isn't actually as dark as she had initially perceived, having overlooked the soft glow of a lamp in the living room. Pyrrha tosses her dirty clothes through her open bedroom door and slips into the adjoining space, blinking at the light as her attention is drawn towards it by the dull snoring noise she picks up. Pyrrha smiles as she rounds the recliner and eases towards the sofa, seeing Jaune sprawled across the cushions with a book open on his stomach and his glasses still on his face. Just his presence brings a noticeable peace over her, she even smiles as she kneels down beside the couch and just admires his sleeping face for a moment. She gets lost in it, unconsciously chancing to stroke his cheek with the backs of her fingers and push strands of hair away from his eyes.  _Gods above, is he beautiful_ , she muses as she takes off his glasses, setting them down on the side table with the intent of letting him be. But when she turns back to him, his eyelids have parted a little and his chest is rising upward with a deep, rousing breath.

There's a noise of confusion, then clarity as he blinks up at her. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"No, no, it's fine," he presses up on his hands, shifting to sit as the book slips into his lap, "are you all right?"

She just nods, seemingly content to balance on the balls of her feet with her hands folded atop her thighs.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Pyrrha begins to deny it, then collapses into a defeated smile. "Am I that transparent?"

"I wouldn't say that, but," he inches his shoulders, "you look exhausted."

"I am, in a way." she laughs it off, though part of her would rather cry, just not in front of him. "So why aren't  _you_ in bed?"

"Don't try and change the subject." he gives her a knowing look. Then he offers his hand with an innocent sort of smile, "Come on, I'll tuck you in."

For a few seconds she just looks at him, seemingly puzzled, and then she deflates and accepts. They rise together and start back towards Pyrrha's bedroom after setting the book on the side table and switching off the light. She loves how he keeps hold of her hand, his other hand smoothing around her back to keep her close to his side, it's the most comfort she's found all day.

Pyrrha pulls the door to when they step through, leaving just the smallest crack, and then silently volunteers to separate from him so she can approach her own side of the bed. He complies without hesitation, keenly aware of silent signals that he has come to learn over the last few months. Jaune pulls down the blankets for her, giving her pillows a gentle fluff as if to try and tempt her. They smile at each other as she climbs in and he pulls the blankets back up.

Pyrrha pats the empty space beside her. "Join me?"

"Do you need anything before I lay down?"

"Just your company, if it's not too much."

He chuckles quietly, his hands going for the button on his jeans, not entirely unaware that her eyes follow them. Part of him is still self conscious about her seeing him in his underwear, so he's quick to get beneath the covers and inch up to her. Jaune piles the pillows on his side beneath his shoulders, propping himself up a little, and then opens his arms as an invitation of his own that she readily accepts. Tucking beneath his arm Pyrrha settles in, one of her arms pushing beneath him while the other drapes across his stomach, her fingers lacing together at the far side of him. Her head rests against his chest, her senses quickly filling up with pieces of him -his scent, the sound of his heart and steady breaths, and the warmth of his body seeping into her and chasing away the isolation. Finally there's a sigh of comfort as his arms close around her and she feels his hand smoothing up and down along her spine.

Jaune feels the energy in the room change when she settles in, smiling to himself with a touch of pride; it's only been within the last few months that he's fully realized just how independent she could be in regards to shouldering her pain, so he loves being able to soothe her, even if it's just a little. He presses his lips to the top of her head, kissing softly when she nuzzles her cheek into his chest. She asks if she can stroke his beard, and his smile widens as he agrees, feeling a small wave of goosebumps as her fingertips sift through the coarse bristles along his jaw. When the digits linger too close to his mouth he'll catch one between his teeth, gently nipping in a way that makes her jump and giggle briefly.

"Be nice." she scolds playfully.

"Aw, little rabbit can't have a little nibble?" he chuckles and kisses her head again, then kisses the pad of her finger. "Alright, I'll behave now."

She laughs again, smiling wide enough that he can feel her cheek lifting against his chest. "You're ridiculous."

"I've always thought of that as one of my more desirable features."

"If I said it wasn't, I'd be lying." she pulls back her hand and lets it smooth over his stomach, lingering on the furrows forming between the muscles; nice to see his training is beneficial to more than just him. "But is it that same feature that made you sleep on the couch?"

"Hm? Oh, no, actually. I meant to go to bed some time ago, but..."

"But what?"

"But...the room was...decidedly...occupied."

Pyrrha feels her brow knit, confused. "Well, Ren and Nora share that room with you, don't they? Don't tell me they kicked you out,"

"No, but they weren't...in a sharing mood."

"...I don't understand."

"I think they were having sex."

" _Oh_ ." her eyes blink wide and her brows snap towards her hairline. "Well then...in that case, I just hope they're being safe."

It's uncomfortably quiet after that, encompassing several moments, then the two gradually start to giggle for no apparent reason.

"Be that as it may," Pyrrha begins as she tries to compose herself, "you could have just asked me, I would have let you sleep in here."

"You were still kind of...holed up at the time, and I didn't want to bother you. Besides, it's not like the sofa is uncomfortable."

Pyrrha swallows the makings of a little lump in her throat, what was left of her laughter effectively snuffed out at the mention of her earlier behavior. "I'm sorry if I worried anyone."

"You don't have to apologize. Though," he weighs the subsequent question one last time, "could I ask just what happened? I mean, I was scared to death when I heard you take that hit, and would swear that my gut hit the soles of my shoes when I saw you on the ground."

"It sounded bad, didn't it?" she tries to laugh it off. "I'll admit, it took my by surprise, but I wasn't injured, just knocked the wind out of me."

"I know, but your reaction was pretty...I don't want to say extreme, but,"

"No, I understand. You would think I could handle something like that better than I did, but...it just...the pain was...familiar, I guess."

Jaune takes a bracing breath. "I know there's a lot you still don't want to talk about, I respect that, but I want to understand, if for nothing else than your sake."

"I know."

"You can say no, I won't hold it against you."

"I know." she repeats reluctantly, somehow having a hard time trusting that last statement. "It's...to put it simply, some things just hurt so bad that...it's like your body is afraid of it. It remembers. Anything that comes anywhere close to feeling like that...I just broke down."

"Did it make you remember something? A flashback?"

"...Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"...No." and she tries to hide her face in his shirt, as if pressing that much closer would help drive the point home.

Part of him wishes she would look at him, let him see the pained look on her face though he knows she doesn't like for him to see her so vulnerable. He remains silent for a moment, resigned, and pets her hair. He asks if he can pull the bun loose and she silently agrees to it. He runs his fingers through the seemingly endless crimson strands, lightly scratching her scalp because he knows it comforts her.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks with a hint of caution, and, again, she wordlessly nods. "I...you don't really have to give me the details, but...you could tell me what you saw and I could fill in the rest."

Pyrrha finally lifts her head, half propping herself up on her elbow and twisting to look at him. In the soft light of her side table lamp he can see the shimmering onset of tears on the edges of her eyes. "W-what do you mean?"

"Do you remember when we fought Cinder on the train? It was the last time you and I saw each other before Menagerie."

She has to search for it, but eventually nods as she recovers the celluloid bits and pieces of that day -though some are damaged or missing entirely.

"Remember when Tag tried to reach you?"

Pyrrha flinches at some phantom pain that buzzes through her nerves, remembering the feeling more so than the actual event.

"Well," he can feel reluctance starting to creep into his throat, but figures he's already said too much and it would be stupid to stop now. "I got pulled into it too. I think it has to do with my mom being a Witch, the same thing I told you happened to Barren."

"I remember, but," she shifts to fully sit up, inching away from him at an instinctual wariness. "What about it?"

"Because of the connection she made with you, Tag was able to see the Grimm's memories...and yours." he swallows. "And I saw them, too."

Tension snaps her spine straight and her heart clenches so tight she isn't sure it's still beating, even as it began hammering against her ribs. All of a sudden all she can think to do is run, but something keeps her fixed on the spot. They hold eye contact for what feels like hours, when it's only a few tense seconds, and part of Pyrrha is thankful that Jaune is the one to break it when he tucks his chin and sighs quietly.

"Like I said, you don't have to tell me everything...just...anything would be better than nothing. I just want to help you through it."

Pyrrha can feel the tremors returning as her thoughts spiral back to her nightmare, her hands gradually curling into fists atop the mattress as her brow knits tighter by degrees. Her eyes break low and away, part of her too ashamed to look at him. Jaune feels his heart clench at the flicker of a tear spilling down one cheek and then the other. He doesn't know what to say, even while his skull buzzes with countless, seemingly meaningless things.

Pyrrha sniffles, roughly wiping her eyes with the heel of one hand. "Th-then...then you probably know how...Salem  _made_ me." she clears her throat. "How she broke me."

"Pyrrha."

"It's the truth." her face twists into something painful, the tears trying to force their way through. "It's the only way I know how to describe it."

He still wants to speak, but remains silent because he knows now isn't the time, because she needed to get this out in her own way. He watches as more tears fall and she makes a greater effort to wipe them away. Then she seems to give up and collapse, her face falling into her open hands to cover up a collection restrained sobs and shudders. Now he just wants to wrap himself around her and comfort her -if that's even possible- but again he thinks it's best to keep to himself.

Pyrrha sucks it down after a moment, though obviously not totally stable. "It...it f-felt like days...she t-tortured me for  _days_ -I mean, it could have been days, I had no way of knowing." then she rakes her scalp in an anxious tick as another sob threatens to rip free of her. She does it again, this time her hooked fingers settling on the back of her skull, the other hand joining it but just above her ear, and they both pull downward as her middle tightens. " _Gods above_ ,  _it hurt_ _**so bad** _ . And it never  _stopped_ ; Ozpin  _begged_ her, but she  _didn't_ .  _**Stop** _ ."

There's more, Pyrrha knows there's so much more of everything, but she just doesn't have the strength to confine it to words. This was one of the chief things she had hoped to take to her grave -the memory of what Salem did, how fragile the Witch had made her feel, and how she had wished for death countless times. She never wanted anyone else to know what it was like for the Invincible Girl to be shattered so utterly, and yet here sits the man she loves saying that he had seen it through her own eyes. Did he know the pain like she did, or just some pale facsimile? Does he know the shame she still feels every day, or has he only seen it? She doesn't have the heart to ask him any of this, but just enough to ask a different question entirely.

"Did I deserve it?"

Jaune feels his heart fracture in two, manifesting as a painful jerk in his chest that pushes every last ounce of air out of his lungs. He helplessly looks back at her, seeing her own heartbreak, and whatever he might have said suddenly dies on his tongue. How could she possibly think that? Pyrrha blinks at him and wipes at her eyes again, still holding onto that wide-eyed and lost expression as she repeats the question. This time, when he yields no answer, she dissolves once more into tears, hugging herself as she folds at the waist.

Jaune finds himself able to move at last, chancing to put his hands on her and surprised when she allows it. With great care he gathers her against him, her arms wrapping about his chest and shoulders with desperate temerity as he holds her.

"O-of course you didn't." he has to force it a little, his tongue stumbling on his teeth.

"Then why did it happen? Why me? _Why didn't I just stay dead_?" she cries, her words stabbing with jagged-edged fury through his now tear-soaked shirt, tearing into his still tender heart. " _Why_?"

Gods, what he would give to have the answer; as she wails into his shoulder and clutches at him so tightly it hurts, all he can do is wish over and over to know what she needed to hear. But, after a fashion, that gives him a feeling of impotence that leaves a bad taste in his mouth, so he hopes it's enough that he gives her whatever physical stability he can to help her through this. Jaune strokes her hair, her back like before, kisses her temple and reminds her that she's safe and that it's okay to cry. He cringes at the sharp digging of her nails against his shoulder blades when her sobbing becomes vicious, thinking she might have broken the skin when she unleashes a drawn out scream into his chest. He accepts it all quietly, his instincts telling him it's the best he can do.

There's no knowing how long the bloodletting lasts, but chances are it wasn't nearly as time consuming as it felt. Pyrrha feels like she has just purged years of her life away, and while the room is dimly lit and her eyes are tender, she will see the remnants of them all darkening the fabric of his t-shirt. She sputters and sniffles as she fights against the boneless weight of herself to sit up, to relieve Jaune of his self-imposed duty.

"S-sorry," she croaks unsteadily, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, "I didn't mean to scratch you like that."

"It's fine." he rolls his stiff shoulders, "already forgotten."

She just nods.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Pyrrha lifts her bloodshot eyes and sniffles again, unsure how to feel about the way he begs with his gaze like that. "I...maybe. Only if you're comfortable with it."

"What do you need?"

_Make love to me_ is the first answer that flickers through her mind, but it's almost too easy to hold it in. She knows he's still not ready, and she wasn't about to guilt him into it by saying it would comfort her; she feels so physically raw and fragile that intimacy like that might be the only thing that makes her feel real again. But he wasn't ready, and she couldn't say she loved him while also disregarding his boundaries.

"I don't know how to ask without it sounding weird."

"Then say it weird and I'll figure it out."

She wants to laugh, admiring his willingness, but she just doesn't have the energy. "Can we...will you cuddle with me...topless?"

Jaune accepts the request with surprising ease, enough to make her watch him with a curiously knit brow as he pulls his shirt over his head without more than a second's hesitation. It's an expression she holds even as he suggests she get back under the covers before taking her sweater off so she doesn't get cold again. Somehow it's different seeing him like this now that they're in bed together, and she feels a tender heat flushing her cheeks as she reaches back to undo the clasp of bra so she can pull it and the sweater off in a singular effort. Pyrrha's quick to cover herself, the reflex of a lightly nervous girl bared under the eyes of her crush.

"Do you want me to close my eyes or something?" he offers, trying not to smirk at the little amusement he feels at her sudden shyness.

"N-no, it's...hold on." she quickly reaches over with one hand to switch off the light, effectively bathing the room in near complete darkness. "Sorry."

"Don't be, it's your body, I'll get to see it when you let me. Now come here."

They settle on the pillow while facing each other, and before she knows it she's surrounded; the heat of his throat is against her face and her hands are caught between their chests. Their legs unconsciously twine together beneath the blankets, just like her fingers curl through the soft hairs on his chest without having to think about it. This close, skin-to-skin contact is exactly what she needed; already she can feel the makings of real comfort working its way through her body, bringing her anxiety down to a tolerable place. Then his palm starts smoothing up and down her back, making her sigh with contentment. A few moments of this gentle treatment has her edging back towards sleep.

"Better?" and he smiles at the soft hum of her reply. "Good...your moms aren't going to freak if they find us like this, are they?"

She'll shake her head, partly so she doesn't have to talk because her throat is sore, but also so she can nuzzle her cheek against his chest. "They were already convinced we were sleeping together, so this is fine."

"Oh, well...we are...kind of. In the literal sense."

Part of her is wishing he would stop talking, because now that she's stabilized and calm, her mind is at risk of filling up with _other_ things that will likely keep her up all night. And while these would be far more pleasant things, she would sooner sleep. Then his hand goes a little lower than usual, brushing passed the small of her back and pushing against the waist of her sweatpants, and she shivers. "You're making it hard to keep my word." she mumbles softly.

"Hm?"

"When I said I wouldn't try to ravish you if you came to bed with me."

"Sorry, I don't mean to bother you."

"You're not...in a bad way, anyway."

"Are you saying you'd like to ravish me right now?"

"...Maybe." when she hears him chuckle, feels the coinciding jumps of his ribs, she knows her face is burning red. "It's ridiculous, I know."

"Not at all. You like to be touched, it comforts you, and you just went through a hell of a lot of...uncomfortable stuff...so it isn't ridiculous. No different than putting a bandage on a wound, really."

"But you're not ready, and that's okay." and it partly sounds like she's trying to convince herself, keep herself honest.

"No, but who says we have to have sex? Isn't there other stuff we could do?"

Pyrrha shifts, trying to accommodate for how her heart is suddenly beating harder. "I mean,"

"You could teach me how to touch you...you know... _that_ way."

Now her mind is reeling; there's no way she's getting to sleep. "Are you sure you're okay with it?"

"I think so. I'm okay enough to want to try."

Pyrrha bites her bottom lip, smiling against it as excitement shivers through her. "Alright. But if you start to feel uncomfortable, you tell me, okay?"

"I will." he kisses the top of her head, a gesture of acknowledgment. "So where do I start?"

"Right here." and she shifts upward until she finds his lips with hers.

 

 

Author's Note: I know that is easily the worst cliffhanger to date, but I did it for a reason. Consider it a dress rehearsal for the finale, okay? The epilogue will likely take place a few years later, which I'll do my best to integrate naturally as opposed to just saying it straight out. I dunno. Anyway, I love you all, and I'm also planning on making an "Ask the Author" video for this -likely a two-parter- and I would love if it you readers would participate by submitting questions you have/had about the story. Or any story, or even about me if it suits you. Otherwise the vid will consist of me talking about Embers, how it came about and what I've learned as I've worked on it. Catch you all in the Epilogue, take care!

 


	68. Epilogue

Somehow Vacuo still seems something like home to Cinder. The desert feels familiar, the dryness of the stirring winds like a welcoming embrace and the relentless sun overhead a long loved companion. She smirks a little as Seren laments the heat from time to time, simply unable to understand how anyone could hate this wonderful warmth. Then again, Cinder didn't worry about sunburn, and even if she did, she didn't have to worry about her skin turning purple like her sister's.

"You keep telling me," Seren pants, groaning, "you keep telling me you're finished with this matter, and like a fool I keep believing you."

"Just like I keep telling you that you don't have to come along and you keep choosing to do so."

"My conscience won't allow me to do anything _else_. Heavens know what trouble you'd get into if I didn't."

"Not as much as you think." Cinder gives her a certain look over her shoulder.

"I'll not risk it, if it's all the same to you."

"Then could you complain a little less?"

"Once I have less to complain about."

Cinder rolls her eyes, still grinning, and the two walk on through the sand.

Thankfully they haven't much farther to go. Vacuo's great desert is dotted with Oases, some of them clustered close enough to support the formations of small towns, and its to one of these little villages that Cinder means to visit. She knows they're close, and she tells herself it will be the last trip out here that she makes. Although part of her knows that is a huge fib; part of her knows she'll come again next year, just like last year and the year before that.

"I would also like to understand why you keep doing this to yourself; is this a human thing you learned?"

Cinder shrugs. "One could certainly venture to guess." She doesn't know how to better explain it.

By late afternoon the two of them can see the uneven lines of rooftops in the distance, adobe blocks that appear to shimmer in the heat, partly lost in the obscuring branches of palm trees. When they are close enough, Seren breaks away to the closest bit of shade she can find which lies in the space between two houses. Cinder seems content to wait until she cools off before moving further into town, not wanting to appear too much in a hurry. Once Seren is sufficiently recovered, they emerge from the dusty alleyway into the town proper, strolling passed the central public fountain as casually as any lifetime resident.

Cinder's gaze immediately fixates across the way, just a few yards ahead, drawn not just by intention but by flecks of brilliant color among the terra cotta wash of the rest of the town. A mural spills across the western exterior wall, and Cinder smiles to herself when she realizes it has grown since her last visit. In fact, even now she can spy the artist at work beneath a canvas awning, safe from the sun while she paints. It had only been the groundwork to a garden scene last year and the year before, but now she can make out the frames of lattices and fruit trees. Fitting, she thinks, quite fitting considering the name of the place; _Violet's Garden_ is painted in its namesake color across the front of the two story building, situated beneath a string of lanterns that would flicker to life just after the sun went down and tell the rest of the town that the cozy looking cantina was open for business.

Cinder will let herself through the swinging doors, not because she knows no one can stop her, but because she has an open invitation from the owner. Almost immediately her attention is grabbed up by the sound of music, drawing her eyes across the dimply lit bar area towards the far end of the room to the stage where a quintet of Faunus are playing their hearts out. Behind her she can hear the groan of chair legs on the wooden floor, telling her that Seren is already lost to the music and taking a seat in order to fully enjoy it. That's just as well, Cinder preferred to go through this on her own.

She'll approach the bar, watching Emerald as she moves to the music and fusses with a trio of bottles to put them in the proper place on the shelves in front of her. Cinder sits and waits, not wanting to interrupt her and enjoying the way she half dances -had she always done that? Cinder feels a pang of guilt over not having cared enough to ask before.

"Is that you, Vatra?"

Cinder feels her pinfeathers lift at the sound of her birth name, her mild surprise on her face as well as she catches Emerald's gaze as she looks over her shoulder. Cinder feels herself blush as her feathers rise a little more. "How did you guess?"

"Just a feeling." Emerald shakes her head as she pushes the last bottle into place. She turns and approaches the bar, smiling easily. "Good to see you again. Checking on me as usual or are you actually staying a while?"

"We were in the neighborhood." Cinder lilts her head, forcing her feathers back down. "I like what you've done with the place since I've been gone."

"Glad to hear it. Got card tables upstairs now, too; I've almost made back double the money you gave me."

She just nods, feeling a peculiar clench in her chest. "Not bad for a charity disguised as a bar."

"I make due."

_You certainly do._

Cinder had given Emerald a very similar offer to the one she gave Mercury, which she accepted but without the desperate desire to disappear from Cinder's radar. And though her memory had yet to fully return, she remembered enough to know she wanted a fresh start and that Cinder -more so, Vatra- could help her get that. Vacuo was the only kingdom that wasn't actively looking for her, so it was the natural choice. It was just a matter of weeks before Emerald used some of the money to buy up some property and renovate the cantina into what it is now. Cinder would readily admit that even Roman would have probably approved of the place, regardless of the rather surprising detail that Emerald gave most of her profits to anyone who was down on their luck. The local orphan's home is the most regular recipient of her generosity.

Again Cinder is feeling guilt, mentally chastising herself for the way she is and the way she had treated her former accomplice.

"Hey, still with me?"

Cinder blinks, her eyebrows raised when she comes out of her thoughts. "Sorry," she laughs it off and blushes gently, "guess I got a little too much sun."

"I got a bed upstairs if you and your sister want to crash for a while. I don't mind."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but-,"

"But you have places to go? That's what you were going to say, right? Because that's what you usually say,"

A breathy chuckle. "You've got my number."

"Not in the way I'd like, but yeah,"

 _Gods above, please don't start that._ Cinder needed a lot of things, but Emerald flirting with her is _not_ one of them. Emerald didn't remember how she had been treated, and Cinder wasn't about to use that to her advantage to get a second chance on the sly. Emerald deserved so much better, and Cinder deserved nothing at all considering she didn't even have the guts to tell Emerald her real name -the name she _knew_.

"Well, could you stay until the kitchen gets running so I can feed you? Let me have that at least."

She knows she needs to say no. Saying yes means risking getting even more attached, more used to the idea of _maybe_ -maybe they could try again, maybe it would be better this time, maybe Cinder wouldn't have to tell her everything. But that's so wrong on so many levels, and she knows that too. Now if she could fully accept it and stop wanting things she couldn't have.

Ah, the burden of Fall.

"Sorry." Cinder apologizes again. "Like you said, places to go." and it kills her to see the flicker of genuine disappointment in Emerald's eyes. "But thanks all the same."

"Then sit long enough for a drink or two, and that's not a request."

"Yes, ma'am." and Cinder is watching her again, not really meaning to, as she sets up a trio of glasses on the counter and calls Seren over to join them.

They drink, catch up, laugh a little, and shake their heads at each other from time to time. All the while Seren's eyes drift between Emerald and her sister, brows cocked with a touch of knowing. She can't recall ever having seen her being so disingenuous, in fact Vatra's once staunch adherence to her own truth had been cause for many a spat between the two of them as well as their mother. But she understands, just as she understands her sister's guilt, though she wishes Vatra would stop torturing herself like this. The Dragon Faunus just continues to silently watch, a sympathetic pain buzzing behind her ribs.

Cinder loses track of the time even though she promised herself she wouldn't. A couple of drinks turned into a few, turned into several, turned into more, and when she realized the sun had gone down she was glad it hadn't all been alcohol. The evening regulars had begun filing in, the noise of their growing numbers having brought her back to here and now. Without another word and a mental shrug she pushes her empty glass away.

"Oh. Guess it's that time, huh?" Emerald cocks her head and forces a little smile, whatever it takes to hide her displeasure at the prospect.

"Afraid so."

"I'd say you shouldn't travel at night, but you two see in the dark just fine." Emerald chuckles, taking glasses from both of them. "Just be safe, okay?"

"Trust me, whatever is out there should be more worried about _us_."

"Somehow I don't doubt that." she nods. "But you'll come back again, won't you?"

Cinder feels her heart clench again. She always asks, always right before they leave, and always in a way that seems to hide a plea for them to stay. And, somehow, Cinder feels like - _knows_ \- it's mostly directed at _her_. Part of her can't shoulder the weight of meeting Emerald's eyes, but she forces herself to manage.

"If we're in the neighborhood again, sure."

"Promise?"

 _Why make me promise?_ And she nods, knowing her tongue might betray her heart if she used it. "Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Stepping outside, her boots on earth again brings about the sensation of feeling ten pounds lighter. Around her shoulders at least, as her heart seems to dangle from its strings like a ton of steel. Though, even if that wasn't the case, she could feel Seren's eyes on her as they head out of town, and that would have been enough to compensate for any comfort she might have had.

It isn't until the oasis lies some distance behind that any words pass between them

"She wanted you to stay." Seren says softly.

"I know."

"She was reaching out to you."

"I know." Cinder shrugs with a touch of irritation. She didn't want to have this conversation, not now, not again. Then she shakes her head. "It wouldn't be right."

"Then tell her the truth."

She takes a breath, her hand pushing through her hair and pinfeathers. "It wouldn't change anything. We'd still be walking away from this place."

"You don't know that."

"That's not the point." Seren chuffs in response, and she feels her jaw tighten with a snarl. "Look, I know I've caused a lot of pain in this life, but that doesn't mean I'm not entitled to spare myself some."

"Then you should stop coming here. Obviously she can take care of herself, so there's really no need for you to keep checking up on her. Unless these trips aren't really for her sake."

Of course they're not, and Cinder knows it. She doesn't want to admit it, but that didn't make it any less true. A part of her still loves Emerald, still wants her, but it's constantly swamped by all the guilt. "I just...I owe it to her."

"Yes," Seren nods once, the gesture exaggerated, "just like you owe her the chance to make the choice for herself."

Amber eyes glower through the indigo darkness to meet sterling silver, the sisters wordless while countless things pass through looks alone. Cinder is the first to break away, her expression fixed in a scowl.

"Maybe in another life...a life where I haven't ruined everything."

"What makes you think she has that time to wait? She's only mortal, after all."

Cinder stops, more like freezes in place, her scowl having pulled loose into something more so resembling realization. _Only mortal._ The phrases pulses gently through her mind, a soft chant as she half turns to look back towards the lights of the little town. The weight of her heart tugs harder, hangs lower in her chest, perilously close to dropping.

Eventually she'll face the way she meant to go and start walking again, chin tucked and shoulders tight. "This is better for her." she says flatly.

Seren watches her for only a moment, shaking her head with a quiet sigh before beginning to follow.

 

_(II)_

It's early, just before sunrise, but the Nikos household is already up, albeit mostly still in their bedclothes. Team JNPR aren't in their pajamas, but aren't formally dressed either; they're in comfortable, casual clothes, but with their shoes on as if they mean to go somewhere. Each of them has packed a small bag and lined them up near the back door to be scooped up later, hopefully expediting the process of boarding the airship that will soon arrive to take them to Vale. Thana and Rhea are nursing their first cups of tea in an attempt to wake more fully, while Haeda doesn't bother fighting it as she sits on the end of the sofa with her head tipped back and eyes closed. Her plush tail drapes across her thighs, the end of it caught in Pyrrha's hands as she snoozes as well. Her legs rest across Jaune's lap, the young man mimicking the Faunus' position. Ren and Nora occupy the recliner and are decidedly more awake than the others, though Ren's being more conscious is more of a side effect of Nora's usually vibrant morning self. She's eager for their trip to get underway, but also for Tag and Billy to arrive to join them.

Jaune appears sound asleep, but the truth reveals itself when his scroll buzzes in his pocket and makes him flinch to near full awareness. With as little movement as possible he digs the device from his pocket, swiping his thumb across the screen to check for the new message; it's a to-the-point, only a little misspelled text from Billy alerting them that they're on the way over. He taps out a response and smiles to himself -Billy's literacy is improving all the time.

"Hey," Nora pipes up softly, "was that them?"

"Yeah." Jaune nods.

Nora seems to vibrate in her seat, reigning in an excited squeal. "I can't wait to see the baby."

Jaune nods in agreement, smiling a little wider. Part of him is excited too, though all of him would be if he were more awake.

"Hm? Baby?"

He looks down into his lap at the sound, feeling Pyrrha's feet jerk atop his legs before his eyes rise to her face where their gazes catch each other. She appears sleepily curious, one scarlet brow lifted. Jaune relays the same message he had given Nora, adding a gentle encouragement for her to go back to sleep, but Pyrrha begins to shift to sit up. She says she'll have plenty of time to sleep on the flight if she needs to. Still Jaune will lift his arm, a silent invitation, and she accepts by tucking into his side.

"Did you get any more sleep?" he asks.

"Not really. I'm just anxious I think, once this is all over I'll be okay." she assures him through a soft exhale. She had so much on her mind it was a wonder she could relax at all, what with the upcoming trip, being surrounded by people for the next few days, and receiving a commendation from Vale's royal council -the last of which was sure to be a terribly public affair, enough so to likely alert the rest of world that she is actually alive.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

"Just be here."

And he quietly accepts, kissing the top of her head as she rests fully into his shoulder. There's a warm blossom of pride in his chest; she has come so far, fought so hard to heal and learn to cope and hold on to herself. "I love you." he whispers.

"Love you too." she replies with a touch of a sleepy slur.

Within the next hour there is a knock at the front door, and as soft as it is, the whole of the house is up and ready at the sound. Rhea is closest and answers the door, greeting Tag and Billy and allowing them inside. Nora jumps from the recliner and jogs enthusiastically through the living room when Tag comes into view with Billy in her shadow. The young Witch and all the other mother's in the house gather around the Otter Faunus and the cloth sling fixed across her chest that squirms. Tag seems so very proud to reveal the infant, taking her baby in the hook of one arm to pull back the sling and let them see coal black hair, red brown skin and a pudgy body, and the little tail that's a replica of Tag's. The newborn sleeps, the tip of the tail held securely in both hands.

"He's so _tiny_." Nora whispers, but it's obvious that's an effort to maintain such a quiet volume. "Have you named him yet?"

"Not yet," Tag smiles and nods, hoping no one notices the new parent exhaustion she knows is visible on her face, "but it's barely been a month and I haven't really gotten to know him. Soon, though."

"Could I hold him a moment?" Thana asks, though she still looks at the baby and not his mother when she speaks.

"Of course, and I'd like to use the restroom if it's all right, Rhea."

"Help yourself, please."

Tag offers a silent nod of thanks as she carefully negotiates her son into the other woman's arms, giving similar quick greetings to Jaune and Ren and Pyrrha as she passes in a sort-of hurry.

However, the child clearly isn't of the mind to be held by a stranger, and seconds after settling into Thana's arms he wakes and starts grunting in protest. Fat arms flail with poorly controlled jerks, like his little tail as the grunts turn into fussing, encouraging the huntress to return the baby Faunus to his other parent. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Billy says softly, the softest any of them had ever heard the Bison speak. "He's still picky about his company. There, there, child of mine," they kiss the baby's forehead, ignoring how his tail slaps their face, "hush now. You're safe. Do I have time to sit?"

Rhea doesn't answer, but steps aside to pull out a chair from the dining table. Sitting down Billy starts to bounce their arms a little, giving the baby their hand to hold until he quiets down.

"Also, Rhea, I have that package for you, it's in Tag's bag."

"It can wait a moment, but thank you." she smiles, fawning over the child from a distance. She misses having a baby in the house.

Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ren have joined the crowd now and look on with varying expressions of awe and curiosity. All of them had been eager to see the baby; it was an unspoken hope for all of them since Tag and Billy married nearly four years ago. They had partly expected Tag to get pregnant immediately -seemed plausible with her being the Spring Maiden- but that hadn't been the case. After the first year or so of trying it had begun to impact Billy's ability to teach, and Tag had found herself neck deep in long talks with Rhea regarding an inability to conceive. Then, last Summer, things took a turn for the better.

"How does it feel to finally have one to keep?" Jaune asks gently.

Billy looks up, smiling when they meet his eyes and then looks back at their son with a little chuckle. "Terrifying. Tag has been wonderful in teaching me, but I'm still so scared of doing the wrong thing."

"I think that's normal." Rhea chuckles. "Though it was the opposite for Theron and I when Pyrrha came home." and she looks up, catching her own daughter's eyes and sharing a smile with her.

"Well, that, and he takes after me too." and they tap near their eye with one finger, garnering exaggerated nods of understanding.

"So he's an Otter too?" Nora asks, having taken a step closer to get a better look. When Billy nods she cocks her head one way and then the other, then straightens. "Yang's gonna make a pun about it somehow. I'm calling it now."

"I'd love to see her try." the older hunter chuffs. "How soon before they arrive, anyhow?"

"Maybe an hour more." Jaune answers, having been the last to hear from Team RWBY.

"Hm. I know small Maiden is particularly excited to meet him."

"Weiss was so sad about missing the delivery." Tag's voice carries easily across the house, drawing everyone's eyes. "But I think she cried just as much as I did over the first couple pictures of him that I sent her." She comes back into the dinning room, walking around everyone. "Did he get cranky?"

"Yes, wife," it's how they always refer to Tag now, "you went too far away for his liking."

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry, dear." she coos, receiving a little burble in return. "Do you think he'd mind you holding him a little longer? I need a break,"

"Of course, take all the time you like."

The lot of them find seats around the table and drift into idle conversations and more cups of tea. After a while the infant seems agreeable to some socializing, so long as his mother is where he can see her, and is passed from one willing set of arms to another. Nora actively tries to get a reaction out of him, making funny faces and noises until he squeals with delight. And when she offers him to Ren, who gracefully accepts, she has a loving but pleading look in her eyes. Like she wants one of her own someday. Pyrrha will quietly decline, allowing Tag to take him back at last. She doesn't feel that it's right to hold him, and she's thankful that no one questions her about it.

Just as Jaune said, within the next hour all conversations pause as the dull rumble of a passing airship rolls over the house. The racket doesn't fully dissipate, not until after it seems to hang near the back of the house for a moment. Rhea rises from her seat and heads for the back door, stepping out in order to greet the expected visitors.

Ruby is the first to come inside, already smiling from ear to ear as she makes her way towards Team JNPR. She gives them all powerful hugs and warm greetings, but it's obvious that the ones she gives to Pyrrha are... _more_. Weiss and Blake come next, though their greetings are more subdued, with Blake just being that way socially, and Weiss just being more excited to see the little one than give her immediate attention to all the people she will be spending the next few days with anyway. She politely asks to hold him, already tearing up just at the sight of him. The others are visibly surprised when he doesn't fuss at all. Yang strolls inside just behind Rhea, having lingered behind to take a moment to apologize for parking in her back yard -it was her first solo landing after all.

Yang greets everyone in turn, quickly but sincerely, and eventually comes to stand beside Weiss. She has a love for babies much like Nora, and had missed it since Ruby was too big to pick up.

"Isn't he precious?" Weiss says softly. "I've always wanted a little brother."

Yang smiles at the infant and feels a small sun burning in her heart when he makes a similar expression back at her. "Me too." and she just happens to look up, catching the makings of tears in Tag's eyes. "You okay, Otter-mom?"

"I thought I was done crying when I was done with the pregnancy," she laughs, "guess not."

"You mean that?" Billy asks, brows up. "You see him as your brother?"

"Of course we mean it." Weiss answers, seeming to marvel at the baby's hand gripping her finger.

Yang leans in to have a closer look, loving how bright silver eyes settle on her while the boy gums at Weiss' finger. "So what kind of Faunus is he?"

"He's an Otter too."

"Yeah? And here I thought he'd be a _W-Otter_ buffalo." and she smiles like a jackass in waiting for the resounding groan from everyone in the room.

"Oh my god, I _told_ you." Nora shakes her head, but grinning even though she made a noise similar to a sick cow. "You had that one ready, didn't you?"

"You bet, from the moment I knew this little tyke was on the way." she declares. "Only the best for my family."

"Speaking of family," Jaune interjects, "we should probably get going, shouldn't we?"

"You're right, it's a long flight." Yang mildly laments. "Everyone ready to go? Then let's load up."

"Before you all leave, Tag, Billy said you had that package in your bag?"

"Oh, yes, that." She's turning to look for it, happy to find that Billy has beaten her to it, passing the tan postal envelope to her. "Here you are."

"Thank you." Rhea accepts it, quickly pulling the strip seal off and reaching inside. "I'll keep the hard copies of you credentials, but here are your hunter's licenses."

One by one Team JNPR takes the small, hard plastic cards from Rhea -Pyrrha doing so with noticeable hesitation. All four of them seem to stare in awe for just a moment, and Nora's the first one to break rank and hug Ren. They finally made it; they were all together and they made it. Jaune feels an almost overwhelming sense of surreality, barely able to believe that he actually has this thing in his hands. He is an honest-to-gods huntsman now, and his first thought is to turn to Pyrrha and thank her. However he pauses when he sees her, looking like she's trying to stare holes through her own photo on the card.

In truth her mind has wandered off, reliving the last few years and measuring their weight against this moment. Had it all been worth it? Part of her wants to say yes, partly because she believes it, but partly to spare herself the monumental disappointment of it not matching up to what she thought she always wanted. For a moment, this little piece of plastic seems so woefully...underwhelming. How could it possibly compare to all the things she gave up and lost? Did she really deserve this? And would the girl in the picture ever stop feeling so separate from herself?

"Hey,"

Her head cuts to the side, her eyes low towards the hand brushing against her arm. Then she looks up to see Jaune smiling cautiously.

"You okay?"

It takes a moment, but she eventually exhales and smiles. "I will be, I think. Let's get going."

 

The flight is nearly twelve hours, but it's in good company and doesn't feel nearly as long. The two teams catch up, talking about whatever exploits they had gotten up to since they were all together during the last Solstice; Team RWBY's graduation from Atlas Academy, Yang's pilot's license and pun-laced proposal that Blake tearfully accepted. Ruby and Pyrrha both admit to having finally started therapy for their respective issues, and while their progress felt small, all the others testified to the positive changes that had come about since committing themselves to the effort. And while it's obviously difficult to do, Weiss opens up about her slowly forming relationship with her biological father mostly because she feels she needs to get used to talking about it; as strange as it all still feels, she can't deny the fact that James has been more of a parent to her and Winter than Jacques ever was. Though, anyone who had known the late Schnee patriarch would know that wasn't exactly a difficult task.

Jaune had something he wanted to add to the conversation, but knows it needs to wait even as it threatens to burst out of him. He had already held on to it for more than a year, so he could hold out for at least a few more hours.

It's after dark when the ship touches down on the spanning front acreage of the Warren, and as the engines roll to a standstill the front door of the house pulls open. Gypsy stands in the back-lit doorway, arms crossed as she comfortably waits for her guests to start filing out of the ship, eyes keen for her son in particular. She'll greet each of them in turn as they approach and at the same time hurries them inside with a promise of food that may or may not be gone yet, but she holds Jaune up long enough to give him an enthusiastic embrace, a volley of kisses, and a declaration of her pride that she doesn't care who hears. She demands pictures of him and his team for the family album, but he manages to convince her to wait until tomorrow.

Inside, the rest of the Arc family is in uproar over their guests, all but jumping up from the dinner table not only to meet them, but with plates in hand so they have a place to sit and eat. Yumi, now ten years old but only marginally bigger than when she was six, comes barreling around the swelling crowd of people with Jaune in her sights. He's discouraging her with every step, but still readies himself as she leaps into the air with the expectation that he'll catch her. Once she's secure in his arm she immediately rails him with an excited tirade about how she wants to be a hunter like him and that Maab is already starting to teach her; of course he's happy for her, though he catches the look on his mother's face that suggests she might not be as thrilled. Once free of his little sister, Jaune starts to take a seat at the table, one leg over the bench when he suddenly pauses and looks around the room. It only took a second for him to realize that his partner is nowhere be seen, and when he chances to ask if anyone saw where she went, no one can give him a definite answer. He excuses himself and immediately heads for the front door with the smallest pinch of worry in his chest.

Thankfully he doesn't have to look too far, in fact Pyrrha is sitting on the bottom step of the front stoup in the warm glow of the porch light, elbows on her knees and her chin propped on her folded hands. "Hey, what's going on?" he asks softly.

"Too many people at once." she confesses with a sigh. "I thought I was ready, but...guess not." and she chuffs out an empty laugh.

"Oh, okay, do you want me to let you be for a while then?"

"No, you're all right, just...that was a really full house."

"I know, plus being cooped up on that ship for most of the day." he nods. "Is there anything you need?"

"No, just time for this to pass."

"What about food? I could fix you a plate and bring it to you,"

"That...actually sounds great, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Of course not."

Pyrrha smiles and sighs to herself as she listens to him walk back into the house with the not so soft knock of the door closing behind him, then lifts her eyes to look at the stars again. She remembers this sky, but not from any of her recent trips here. She remembers them best through toxic dreams of black magic and fury, remembers stalking tree lines and thickets in hopes of an easy kill. Pyrrha wishes she enjoyed being here more, that it was easier to be happy and comfortable in this place, and that she didn't feel the softest static of the leyline beneath her. She wishes she didn't feel a silent tug towards the lake or the faint nausea that just thinking about that water brought to her gut.

But it's gotten better. She makes a conscious effort to acknowledge that it -she- has gotten so much better. With the support of her team and her family and her therapist, she had come so far.

When Jaune returns he descends the stoup to sit on the same step as her and passes her a plate, just smiling when she takes it. They eat quietly, just enjoying each other's presence and the mutual comfort it brings. They look at the stars together, Pyrrha finding none of the bitter-sweetness at their glimmer that she had just moments ago. When the plates have been cleared Jaune will gather them up again, chancing a little kiss to Pyrrha's cheek that makes her blush and smile in a way that melts his heart. Her face is still a little red when he comes back again, and this time he's carrying both of their duffel bags.

"Mom set up some bedrooms for all of us in the old house, I thought settling in might help you relax."

By the old house, Jaune meant what was now the equipment barn. It still had the layout and sequestered spaces of former bedrooms and public areas, but most of them were crowded with farm implements, Trixie's carpentry tools, and Nessa's forge. What could be relocated had been, opening up three of the old bedrooms, and the power had been restored to the entirety of the building, not just the usual corner where Trixie's power tools roosted.

Still, Pyrrha lights the way with her scroll and follows just behind Jaune, casting the glow at the floor and around his feet so he doesn't trip on anything he isn't expecting.

"We got Alice's old room," he says in passing, pausing at one of the doors and then moving on to the next, "it gets the best sunlight first thing in the morning." Then Jaune manages the bags into one hand, freeing up the other so he can open the door and step into the room. The light comes on inside, courtesy of a side table lamp, and Jaune dumps the bags on the just-big-enough-for-two bed. "I'm going to switch on the other lights for when everybody else comes in."

Pyrrha just nods and steps aside to let him pass, then enters the room for herself and takes a brief look around before tending to her own duffel. Now that she's here, in a more secure space, all she wants is the comfort of her pajamas and a blanket. As she pulls out her nightclothes she regards the only window and how the curtains are drawn back and how it's cracked open. Something about that rubs her wrong, makes her feel exposed, so she quickly pushes out of her shoes before striding up to the window and pulling the curtains together. A steadying breath gets her back on track, and she's quick to change.

Jaune reenters the room just in time to see Pyrrha putting on the long sleeved shirt she sleeps in and unconsciously pauses, blatantly staring. It isn't until she has covered herself up again that his gaze breaks, but he still catches her giving him a certain look. "You're beautiful." he says like an explanation, to which she simply shakes her head and pulls her bag off the bed to set on the floor. She'll bend down to grab a fresh pair of socks, suddenly remembering, and has to jack knife upright again when she hears the distinct smack of wood against wood coupled with a hiss of pain.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Jaune has his knuckle in his mouth, brow knit in discomfort.

"What did I miss?"

"Just," after a beat he smiles, seemingly in spite of himself. "I think my family is pranking me."

"What on earth makes you think that? What did you find?"

Jaune starts chuckling softly, his head bent in a sort of mock shame as he pulls the top drawer of the side table open again -after having just slammed it shut- and reaches inside.

It takes a second, because at first she simply can't believe what she's seeing, but then all she can do is laugh. "A box of condoms?"

"Big one too." he's laughing a little more easily, but still shakes his head.

"Oh gods," she pants, "is that it?"

"Nope." he reaches in a second time, this time pulling out a small clear bottle. "Lube."

Now Pyrrha has her hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to hold in her amusement. "How many are in that box?"

"Says forty, so either this is a joke, or my mother has _very_ high expectations."

"Well," Pyrrha snickers, mentally bracing herself for what she is about to say, "you _are_ half Rabbit Faunus."

His jaw drops and Pyrrha immediately dissolves into a fit of stomach-deep laughter. She almost doubles over on to the bed, arms across her middle as she gasps for air, something that doesn't get any easier when she chances to look at him and finds his face so red it's damn near glowing. But he's smiling, meaning he isn't taking it as hard as he could, one could say he actually looks a bit amused too. Though, in truth, he's just drinking in her laughter since it's so rare to see her like this. While he had never been a fan of being the butt of a joke, this was fine enough.

When she calmed a little he tries to coax her into bed with the promise of cuddles, an offer she is quick to take. So quick that she gets settled first and opens her arms to him, expecting him to tuck in close and let her hold him. Jaune switches off the light and quickly makes his way under the covers, the two of them then managing into an almost suffocating tangle of bodies while still appearing as content as anything to be wound together as they are. Her arms are around him, one in his hair and gently scratching at his scalp with the other across his back, his head is beneath her chin and within easy kissing distance. His forehead rests against her collarbone and he takes in her clean, natural scent, and one arm drapes her waist while the other tucks between them like one of his legs is locked between hers. They sigh together, comfortable, feeling like they've laid proper claim to the space.

For a time it's quiet, still, the two of them basking in their joint presence.

"Jaune?"

He jumps a little, likely half asleep already. "Hm?"

"I...had a thought. I," she stops, the words catching, "would you...could I show you something?"

"...Right now?"

"Oh, no, no, not now, I mean in the morning." she laughs nervously, mostly at herself for not being more clear. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all." he kisses her neck. "Whatever you want."

"Thank you. I love you."

"Love you too."

Come the morning they wake up together, Jaune watching her as she stretches in a hauntingly cat-like way, her back arching upward from where she had been lying on her stomach. He reminds himself that she does that sometimes, and it's an unconscious mannerism that she preferred he didn't point out so he doesn't. They dress and fuss over each other, kissing and giggling before heading off to the main house for a bit of breakfast.

Both Gypsy and Ren are at work in the kitchen -Nora followed her partner from bed, but wasn't quite ready to be awake so she was camping out on the couch- with the Arc family matriarch dividing her attention between instructing the young huntsman in her recipe and occupying Tag's son while his parents got a few more moments of precious sleep. She pulled the rocker from the living room and put it near the dining table, happily rocking away as she shifts her focus flawlessly from one task to the other. When she realizes they are there, Gypsy softly greets Jaune and Pyrrha, smiling as she asked them if they found everything they needed when they turned in last night. Jaune can't stop the little redness he feels in his face when he nods and assures her they were plenty comfortable in their room as they found it. His mother chuckles softly to herself and returns her attention to the baby in her arms.

They thank Ren when he brings them a pair of plates and waste no time before digging into the literal pile of food in front of them. It's almost too much, more than enough to make them consider another helping of sleep because of how full they feel, but Pyrrha pushes through and pulls Jaune along with her when she gets up from the table. They thank Gypsy and Ren again for the food, dropping off their dirty dishes in the sink before heading back out the front door.

"So where are we headed?" Jaune asks, thinking now would be the best time to ask in spite of having been curious since she requested his company.

"Not too far. You feel up for a short hike through the woods?"

"With you? Sure."

Side by side they walk the gravel path leading out of the Warren, mostly quiet but throwing occasional smirking glances at each other. Jaune doesn't know what he's in for, but wants to make sure she knows he isn't worried, while she simply isn't sure how he's going to take this and is trying to hide it. Part of her needs to do this yet refused to do it alone; Jaune is her confidant, her best friend, and it just didn't feel right not to ask him to come. Plus, her therapist had worked so hard to convince her that she didn't have to do _everything_ alone, and Pyrrha thinks it would be a bit rude to ignore all that effort.

Halfway between the Warren and town they veer off the trail, Pyrrha taking the lead and Jaune keeping faithful distance behind as they duck beneath the newly blossoming boughs of dogwoods and wisteria. Heavy drops of dew come tumbling down, adding to the already heavy, wet chill in the morning air -it's been a very wet Spring so far, should make for a beautiful, bountiful Summer. Jaune has an idea as to where they're headed when they start up the somewhat troublesome slope of a hill, so he mentally braces himself for what he thinks is coming. But his face flickers with confusion when they reach the top and take a turn; if they had gone straight they would have fallen right into the lake, which is what he had expected their destination to be. Instead they follow the general boundary of it, the body of water just out of sight.

After a ways they start down the slope again, but still heading in their new forward direction until they drop down into a shallow ravine. Pyrrha follows the path without conscious thought, easily, like she's done it a thousand times before -a part of her mind swears she has- until she suddenly stops. Jaune stops as well, hanging back a step or two as he watches her regard the wall of compacted earth and the stout collection of ivy laced across it. For a moment she does nothing, just staring, and then Pyrrha reaches out and hooks the ivy with her hand, sweeping it aside and exposing the sizable hole that lay beneath the green. His brows lift, his surprise holding when she looks over her shoulder at him.

"Guess I just needed to see it, reassure myself that it was actually here."

"...What is it?"

"I used to sleep here. Well," she chuffs, "when it let me sleep, anyway."

"Oh." he understands immediately, squashing any remnants of questions he had waiting in his head. "Pyrrha,"

"It's okay, it is, really." she assures him. "It's just...sometimes I'm not sure it all happened. Sometimes I think I imagined it or dreamed it up." just like sometimes she forgets who she is or where she is or where the last few years of her life went. "But my therapist says that's normal with trauma, says it's my brain trying to keep me together."

The surprise on Jaune's face shifts to a softer sympathy, toeing the thin line with sadness. He continues to watch her, holding his tongue as she kneels down and looks into what had likely used to be a bear den or something of the like. Part of him knows; some deeply buried part of his mind where he kept all the Grimm things and the Barren things, and all the memories his bond with her had forced on him knows how cold and isolated she had been and how her consciousness had constantly dangled between there and gone again. Just like he remembered the beginning of life on Remnant in spite of not being there. All of those things brought him a certain discomfort, but still he waits and listens, not wanting to make this about him.

"It's nice to see things growing in it, though." she sighs after a moment. Looking into her former hideaway she can see clusters of green sprouts along the floor, and looking up it appears that little brown bats have taken up residence here too. "Nice to think something good came out of it."

" _You_ came out of it."

Pyrrha turns in a quick and smooth movement, looking directly at him with something unreadable yet resembling a hybrid of surprise and uncertainty.

"You count as that something good, Pyrrha. I know it's hard for you to believe, but you do, and as far as I'm concerned, you will _always_ count."

After a moment she breaks away, looking back towards the darkness beside her, but then turns back to him with a half hearted smile. "I don't know if I'll ever fully believe that."

"Then I'll just have to keep reminding you," he takes a breath, "for the rest of my life if necessary."

She feels her heart clench and her brow quirk, her curious expression covering the rush she feels. Immediately she thinks she's reading way too far into that statement, but as she watches him she realizes he looks like he has other things to say, making her hope. "Jaune, I...what does that mean exactly?"

He swallows, feeling his ribs tighten briefly. "It...it means," Jaune exhales, trying to clear the mess of words in his head. He wanted this to have been easier, in a better place with better circumstances, but this is what he got. "It means I know there are going to be days where you don't feel like yourself, sometimes for days at a time, and you'll need your space. There will be days where I don't know what to say, and -gods help us- I'm going to screw up and hurt you. We'll cry and shout and be angry at each other because we won't know what else to do...but that's all right."

Pyrrha's mouth hangs slightly open as she listens intently, her tongue feeling suddenly dry. When he fumbles his hands and his face turns red she wants to say... _something_ , but her instincts convince her to let him continue.

"It's all right because...because there will be days where you're okay, and _we'll_ be okay together, and we'll laugh and fall in love all over again and have all the right things to say. If we just...if we can find patience and trust one another, we'll have more good days than bad, and what bad days we have we'll be able to get through. It means...I'm asking if you'll be willing to let me share my good days with you, and, if you want to, you could share your bad days with me."

She blinks at him, otherwise wide eyed, and she cant' think of the first thing to say. She knows what she heard, understood it, but couldn't separated it from what it actually meant and what it _could_ mean. Finally she forces the words out. "Jaune, that sounds an awful lot like a...I don't know,"

"A proposal?"

She laughs even though she feels like she shouldn't. "Well, yes."

"Because it is."

She blinks again. "What?"

"It is. That was, in a roundabout way, me asking to marry you."

"...What?"

He smiles. "Come on, Pyrrha, you heard me." Jaune then takes one big step towards her and crouches in front of her, holding out his hand in hopes that she'll take it. "Maybe it isn't the best time, but may I marry you?"

Pyrrha's mind is now an absolute mess. She's equally ready to both believe and disbelieve that this is actually happening, but can't make herself act in regards to either notion. Racing thoughts couple with a racing heart to make everything a blur, and all she can do is shift her eyes in flickering movements from his face to his hand and back again. Even as Jaune's face shifts to show worry, and his head cocks to the side in a very dog like way.

"I screwed up, didn't I? I should have waited."

Then everything snaps back together and she snatches the hand he had almost withdrawn. "N-no, no, you didn't screw up." she holds on with tangible desperation, like he might disappear if she didn't. "It's just...I mean...are you sure that's what you want?" Because she's broken and fragmented and just a hot mess, and then there are the bad days he just talked about.

"Honestly, I don't think I've ever been more certain of anything." He chuckles, his face still red. "I know you're probably thinking that I shouldn't be asking for this, or that you don't deserve it, or something like that, but...I'm not worried about that. All I care about is whether or not you'll say yes."

"What if I say no?" _Oh gods above, why did I say that?!_

"Then I'll accept that. It's just as much your choice as mine." he takes a deep breath and lets it out, holding on to his gentle smile in spite of worrying that she'll refuse.

"I...I want to say yes."

"Then say yes."

"But I'm scared." she confesses. She isn't wholly sure exactly what she's afraid of, only that she is.

"It's okay, I'm scared too, but we can be scared together, right?"

Her heart is still pounding, her mind a bundle of nerves, so it takes a moment for her to catch her breath and think straight. When she does, she finally smiles back at him, though still looking a bit unsure. "I suppose we could."

"So...is that a yes?" his face lights up a little, cautiously.

She takes a breath, stabilizing herself at last. "Yes."

Jaune's happy excitement builds and builds by degrees until it crescendos and he pulls her into a tight embrace with enough force that they both shift to their knees. He showers her with kisses and gratitude and countless declarations of love, and all she can do is hug him back and accept it all because she's much too busy trying not to cry. Because he was right; she didn't feel like she deserved this, after everything she had done there was no reason to believe she deserved to be this happy. Yet here she is, in his arms and in his heart.

They make their way back to the Warren in their own sort of hurry, hand in hand and still red faced. Pyrrha thinks he's going to take her back to the main house to break the news to everyone, but imagine her surprise when his hand pulls against her wrist and draws her close so she'll follow him elsewhere.

"Let's celebrate." he whispers warmly, lilting his head in the direction of the machine barn, more accurately in the direction of their room. "Just us."

"Alright." somehow she blushes harder, having a good feeling -a _very good_ feeling- as to what he really means.

Thankfully no one else was there when they half stumble inside, by now having to guess where they're going as they catch themselves together in searing soul-kisses. When it becomes too troublesome to walk, Jaune catches her behind the knees and shoulders and hauls her up, chuckling at the bright echoes of her too-loud laughter at the gesture. She holds on to his neck, still kissing her knight's cheek as he carries her to and through the door of their room, and then skillfully pushes it shut behind him with a blind swing of his foot. With care and finesse he lowers her to the bed, their lips still together as he unwinds his arms so he can brace his weight on his hands. Pyrrha's hands cup his face, holding him fast when he tries to lift away, demanding just a few more kisses before rising for air.

"I love you so much." he pants above her, wholly ensorcelled by her and her alone. He strokes her cheek with the backs of his fingers, watching fondly as she leans into his touch and then kisses his palm.

"I love you too."

Still smiling he moves the rest of himself onto the bed, encouraging her thighs apart to settle between them as if she needed more assurance as to what he had in mind. "So,"

"So?"

Jaune eases in to kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, a brief peck to her lips before leaning down to her throat. "I had a thought...if you're still ready...so am I."

"Wait, you mean, like, ready-ready?"

"It's like I said, I want to celebrate." he winks. "Only if it's okay with you."

She was _very_ okay with it, so okay she couldn't say so fast enough. One of her hands anchors in his hair with the other in his shirt as she pulls him up, his body aligning with hers as their lips crash back together with his surprised groan. Her tongue is passed his lips and her hips roll, but when her legs start to wind about his waist, Jaune pushes up on his hands.

"Whoa, whoa,"

"What?" At first she looks puzzled, but then panicked. "Oh no, I'm sorry, that was too fast, I didn't-"

"It's okay, really, you just spooked me a bit." he laughs with a hint of nervousness. "Just rein it in a little, okay? We've got time, there's no need to rush."

"I'm sorry." she repeats. "I didn't...just I've been _really_ patient, and,"

"I know, that's why I'm not upset. Still, just enjoy it, okay? I know I've made you wait, but you need to give me a chance to make it worth your while, alright?"

Pyrrha takes a stabilizing breath, then nods. "Alright."

"Now let's try that kiss again, I really liked it."

For a moment they hold each other and simply kiss, letting the want and warmth build a touch more slowly this time. For Pyrrha it's a conscious effort, one that she manages as best she can though her heart hammers behind her ribs and makes blood throb through her entire body. She has wanted him like this for what feels like forever, a desire that only grew as their relationship did, to the point where it was unapologetic lust at times. Thankfully Jaune had been generous enough not to let her suffer, and the two of them had a great deal of fun learning how to touch each other, but this, _finally_ , she could have this. Could have _him_. Pyrrha tries again to put her legs around him, relieved when he doesn't recoil. Then she tests a little further, slipping her tongue passed his lips, and loves the hum of interest she receives.

As comfortable as they have become, Jaune still feels nervous. He's worried about pleasing her, making her happy; being good enough has always been his biggest hangup and this matter is no exception, even though he knows what he's doing. Still, it had been the main reasoning behind making Pyrrha wait so long, he just wanted to be certain he was worthy to offer her the rest of his life. Then his nervous doubts spiral out of his head when he feels Pyrrha heated palm push beneath his shirt and fan across his bare stomach. With a breathy chuckle he asks if she wants his shirt off, to which Pyrrha only nods and starts to help him with it. He loves how she watches him so intently as he rises up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside, hoping she's appreciating how well he's wearing his early twenties so far. Pyrrha's fingers curl against his chest as he leans over her again, nails lightly scratching and rousing a wave of goosebumps.

Gods have mercy, does she _love_ seeing him in nothing but jeans, and she unconsciously counts the bright pink ribbons of scars that map out the spaces between his ribs like asymmetrical tiger stripes. Her hips roll unconsciously against his, making him groan again, the low vibration making her shudder in turn. The need in her pitches and she has to tear her hands away to make short of some of her own clothes, something Jaune is happy to help with as he chuckles a little at her hurry. Her back arches, her now bare chest pressing against his, heartbeat to heartbeat through heated skin. Jaune's arms circle her waist and tighten, pulling her up with him as he straightens and encouraging her onto her knees. His hands roam up and down her sides, fingers thrumming her ribs, and he cups her hips for a moment before pushing back to grip equal portions of her delightful backside in each hand. Pyrrha presses against him, laughing into his collarbone.

Jaune kisses from her cheek to her ear, down the column of her throat to her shoulder, taking her in through taste and scent and getting lost in the splashes of freckles on her skin. He loves them, the little copper specks that draw his eyes almost as immediately as the rest of her, and he adores how they're arranged; they decorate her face, shoulders, chest and tops of her breasts, but they also map the length of her spine and stop at top of her butt - _those_ are his favorite in particular. He's kissed them all and delights in the prospect of doing it again.

"Pants, can I?" Pyrrha asks, the request borderline begging. When he takes her wrists and guides her hands to the button of his jeans, the heat in her spikes. She hadn't expected something so erotic from him, certainly not this soon. She fumbles nervously but eventually pushes the button through and pulls, the whirr of the zipper unexpectedly loud. Pyrrha preferred more loose fitting, warmer clothes, so it's a much simpler matter of Jaune pushing down with his hands in order to return the courtesy. "Lie back," she orders softly, and he complies.

The pair take a moment to pile up the pillows against the headboard, giving Jaune the proper support to sit up. He watches with rapt attention as Pyrrha shimmies the rest of the way out of her pants, giving him a little smirk once she's completely bare to his eyes. It's not the first time he's seen her naked, nor vice versa, but this time just feels special, makes her want to blush. His bright blue eyes follow her movements as she crawls towards him, balancing on her knees as she reaches for the loose waist of his unbuttoned jeans and starts to drag them down his legs. The denim rolls down to reveal more ribbons of scar tissue and calloused knees, but she holds eye contact so she can watch his reaction to her treatment; his chest staggers with hitching breaths, belying the eagerness hidden beneath his patience. His pants join hers on the floor, and for a tense and heated moment, they just look at each other and pant quietly.

Jaune gestures with his hands, beckoning her forward. He still watches her, hungry as she parts her knees and arranges his legs between hers before climbing up to him, and he can see how her shimmering emerald gaze flits from his face, then lower, and then back again. She takes his hands, fingers lacing together, and uses him to steady herself as she settles into the cradle of his hips with his erection caught between them. Their joint gasping groans meet in the middle as well.

" _Gods_ ," Pyrrha exhales, her hips threatening to roll before she's ready.

"Pyrrha, you feel so good." he's trying to catch his breath too. "Come here."

Jaune pulls her forward and she doesn't resist, readily releasing his hands when she realizes he means to offer his affections to her breasts. He immediately takes an already taught nipple between his lips, unashamedly indulging his hunger mouth-first as his hands busy themselves equally with her other breast and her butt. Her fingers hook into his scalp and shoulder as she arches against him, white hot arcs of pleasure blistering across her nerve endings. She chants his name into his hair and her hips churn atop his cock. She can feel him doing the same in shallow thrusts and hear his muffled whimpers against her breast.

He pulls back, not only to let himself breath but to ask her to lift up a little -any more treatment like that and this would be over before it really started. But he doesn't leave her wanting, instinctively bringing his hand from behind her and working it between her legs. She jolts sharply when his thumb presses carefully against her tender clit. " _Right there_ ," she gasps. Jaune forces himself to work slowly, as hard as it is for him _and_ for her. Ideally, he wants her to come before they go any further, but he certainly wasn't going to rush it. So he releases the one nipple with a satisfied pop, kisses his way across her sternum -paying special attention to the scar there- and then takes hold of the other before starting his thumb in small, steady circles.

Part of her wants to shout at him, to outright _demand_ that he get on with it, but another part of her is confident he knows what he's doing and allows him the time he means to take. If she ever did try to get aggressive with him, he would just tease her about it and then find a way to make her wait even longer -he's done it before and she was sure she would enjoy it about as much now as she did then. Then two of his fingers find her entrance and easily slide inside, ripping any conscious thought she had right out of her head.

Jaune loves the sounds she makes, the way she can't form his name in spite of her obvious effort, and how her hips start softly bucking into his palm. He loves how she shivers and almost swears when he adds a third finger and thrusts in to the knuckle, and loves the slight taste of sweat on her skin when he tips up his chin to kiss her throat. Her nails in his shoulders spark a beautiful little pain under his skin, making him grunt in gratitude as he returns the gift with more enthusiasm behind his work between her legs. His own impatience is starting to cloud his judgment, so he doesn't edge her much longer. When she climaxes, all he can do is watch her with a partly smug, partly awestruck smile.

Pyrrha pants and shivers, eyes closed as her senses struggle to come back. She feels him all around her, smells him, tastes him, and it's almost too much to stand. Thankfully he's got a good hold of her, one hand on her hip while the other smooths up and down her back the way she likes.

"You okay?" he asks softly, but breathlessly.

She can only nod.

"Ready?"

Pyrrha opens her eyes and nods again, pushing him back until he's reclined on the pillows. Holding him there she'll reach out towards the side table, carefully balancing until she pulls the drawer open and finds the box of condoms. She stares at the little plastic package as she fumbles with it, stares and thinks about whether or not they really need it; she hasn't had her period since she came back.

No, use it, she decides, since that's not a risk she's willing to take right now.

"Where do you want m- _oh_ ," his eyes threaten to roll back as she grips his cock and starts pushing the condom over it. "M-me,"

"Right where you are." she smirks, liking this powerful feeling she has. "For starters."

Jaune just nods, accepting his position as he keeps his hands on her hips. Hooded eyes track her as she shifts, her whole body rising against him as she eases into place. His fingers flex hard into her supple flesh when she takes him inside, pleasurable static rattling through him at the slick heat he feels through the latex.

"Oh my god," he breathes, "Pyrrha,"

Pyrrha says nothing, her bottom lip caught between her teeth at the little, stretching burn of his penetration. But it still feels good, everything about this is still so good. When she's taken in all she's able, Pyrrha collapses against his chest, hitching breaths passing through flared nostrils as she captures him in a searing kiss. Jaune thrusts gently, the movement barely there, but Pyrrha feels it all and whimpers into his mouth. "Slowly," she cautions.

He nods manically, swallowing hard. "Rock your hips a little."

They're watching each other again, countless silent declarations and intentions going between them as they carefully move together, so carefully until her hips settle completely against his again. Her eyes drift closed and her mouth hangs open, momentarily lost in how full she feels, and when she opens her eyes again she finds him looking at her in a way she's never seen before. Like she's perfect, immaculate, something holy that he just can't believe is real or that he's blessed enough to be able to touch. She feels his aura flare, a warm but brief pressure, and her own answers in turn without a thought. Pyrrha lays against his chest, arms around him as she takes his lips with hers, the first of many things she means to use to remind him how human she is -she wouldn't tolerate him putting her on that pedestal.

Jaune holds her as he lets his hips roll in easy thrusts, his heart jumping with each of her mewls and sighs that vibrate through him. He lets her dictate the pace, waiting for her to start moving with him before feeling confident in thrusting to the hilt. The first insistent press of his hips has her gasping with a jolt, and out of worry he stops to make sure she's all right. She laughs breathlessly, nodding and assuring him that she's fine before asking him for more. He isn't too sure just how much more she wants, so he asks again for her guidance and she leads him lovingly by example.

"Feel good?" he asks, voice rough and from the chest.

"Gods yes." her hot breath brushes his face, their foreheads touching. " _Oh_ ,"

"What, you like this?"

" _Yes_." She feels the sudden change in his pace, the force behind his hips, and the grip of his arms around her waist. Then, just like that, it spirals out into a riot of heat and light and struggling to catch her breath. Pyrrha hears him groaning rhythmically against her neck. "Did you?"

"N-no, no," he kisses beneath her ear, smiling and panting, "just never felt you come like that before."

If her face wasn't already red, chances are it would have been in that moment.

"Can I be on top now?" he asks innocently, looking up at her with an expression to match.

She smiles back at him, kisses his forehead and then his nose and then his lips. "If you insist."

Jaune is careful to keep her against him as he moves, managing to stay engaged as he rolls them over and puts Pyrrha beneath him. She giggles and he loves it, loves seeing the fine sheen of sweat on her face and how it makes her hair curl against her flushed cheeks. He offers a couple of testing thrusts, surprised by the volume of his name jumping from between her teeth. Gods above, that's deep. But, to his lover's surprise, he doesn't settle there, and instead he manipulates her legs from around his waist so he can stretch out on his side beside her. Jaune then hooks her leg over one of his arms, angling her hips towards him, and the other pushes beneath her to find her hand on the far side of her. This position is strangely more intimate than the previous one, leaving their eyes level to each other and offering more skin to skin contact. It certainly helps that Pyrrha secretly loves being the little spoon.

The first leisurely thrust has her eyes widening, her pupils still blown wide and fixated on him. Her free hand snakes around his neck, catching a handful of his hair again and scratching his scalp roughly as his hips move faster.

"Is this okay?"

She nods manically.

"More?" This time she whimpers, but he still understands. He brings his free hand to his mouth, wetting his fingers on his tongue before touching them to her clit. She gasps his name against his lips and he feels his loins clench hard. "Gods, Pyrrha, I love you."

"Love you," she breathes helplessly, "love - _oh gods_ ,"

Jaune wanted to last longer, he wanted the time to give her everything she could ask for, but he just couldn't. He clutches her to him, his body trembling around her as his climax hits and makes his body seize, makes him grunt like some wild animal -at least that's what he thought it sounded like. His blood pounds through him, hard and hot like molten iron, and then he's suddenly gutted of everything but the sensation of a warm body in his arms -the body he's quick to remember belongs to his best friend and wife-to-be. When he has enough of his mind back, he finds her face with his hands and guides their lips together again, now chapped and bruised but no less sweet.

"You need to clean up." Not "I love you", not "that was wonderful, let's do it again", but "you need to clean up". Jaune almost laughs, but doesn't have the energy. Instead he kisses her a little longer, rubbing wide circles on her belly with his palm, and then finally complies. Getting out of bed he's convinced this is what being drunk must feel like as he braces himself against the bed frame and the walls in search of the wastebasket. He'll clean himself off with his discarded shirt, knowing he has a clean one in his duffel, and then returns to bed where Pyrrha waits for him.

In the short time he was up she has managed to sprawl across the bed, leaving no significant space anywhere for him to occupy, and looks to be drifting between asleep and awake. He leans over and gently strokes her side, coaxing her to look at him and shift over.

"You cold?"

"No, I'm actually all right." she smiles sleepily. "Or at least I will be when you get back to cuddling me."

"Yes, ma'am."

Jaune settles on his side again, hooking her waist to pull her to him, making her giggle softly. Just to be sure he snatches a corner of the blanket and tugs it up until she's mostly covered and she thanks him. She won't tell him that his warmth has always been enough.

"Was that good for you?" she asks just above a whisper.

"You're incredible." Jaune sighs into her hair, kissing her scalp. "How about you? I didn't disappoint you, did I?"

"Of course you didn't." she raises a hand to cup his cheek. "It was well worth the wait, although I feel the need to admit that I really hated waiting."

"I'll make it up to you, promise." He chuckles, his hand smoothing over hers and holding it against his face. "Say it again. Say you'll marry me."

"I will be happy to marry you, Jaune Arc. Though, I don't know how momma's going to take it."

"I already got her blessing. I made sure to get all of your moms' approval before asking you."

"You didn't have to. I didn't exactly need their permission,"

"It was more a matter of respect."

She nods. "Are they expecting you to go by Ithic tradition and give me a goat as a present?"

Jaune laughs, nestling a little deeper in the pillows and closer to her. "I was ready to when she told me about it, but then she told me how your father proposed to her."

"Ah yes, _that_ story." she shakes her head, going still in a way that her face is directed towards him. "Momma swears the sole reason she said yes was because of that horrid joke."

"I don't think it was so bad. It was certainly clever." and he recalls Rhea laughing -something he considers rare for her- as she told Jaune how instead of offering her an actual goat, Theron had simply offered himself since he was "basically a goat anyway".

"So what does that have to do with you?"

"Well," he grins in spite of himself, unable to look at her directly even as she looks at him, "do rabbits count? Because, you said it yourself, I'm half Rabbit Faunus."

For a moment she just looks at him, seemingly dumbfounded, but then she just laughs, turning over to bury her face in his chest. "You're terrible." she groans. "You're absolutely terrible, and I love you."

"I love you too. But if it's a real goat you want, we could go to the other barn and you can pick one out."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're the only one I want."

He hums in response, acknowledging her since he can't really form any more words. His mind is fogging over with the prospect of sleep and he's tempted to take it. Jaune kisses her again, hazy enough to do it twice just to be sure, and then lulls himself on as he strokes her hair. Pyrrha does the same but to the gentle cadence of his heart.

 

_(III)_

Glynda thought it didn't actually exist, thought the truth of it were just dwindling rantings of a dying man, and yet, as she sits here in the new headmaster's office - _her_ office- at Beacon, she stares hard through her spectacles at a book that looks to have been bound and rebound innumerable times. Pages sit askew from the others, torn and repaired to ill-fitted edges and discolored with age - _great_ age, she thinks. She had only recently come across it in the library at the manor, swearing she had never seen it before in spite of her certainty in knowing the contents of her personal archive like the back of her hand. Since then, however, she has carried it with her everywhere, but had yet to so much as unlace the stout leather strand that kept the tome closed. The binding is a rich and dark shade of green, _of course it is_ she thinks, with the shape of what looks like a cog stamped into it, these being the clues that made it all too clear to her who this had belonged to.

Curiosity gnaws relentlessly at the back of her mind, demanding it be fed with the journal's contents, but something nameless stays Glynda's hand. She's hesitant to call it fear, but at the moment it would be the most accurate title; it was a rather large book and, knowing what she knows now about Ozpin, she shudders to even imagine what information could be stored in it. Entire eras worth of secrets could be divulged, a glimpse into the life of Zerline herself, or a plethora of things Glynda never or always wanted to know. The temptation is incredible, to the point where she picks it up and holds it in both hands as she continues to just look at it.

Her eyes keep flitting towards the top of the book, towards the peeking purple shimmer of a ribbon acting as a bookmark, the startling, rich youth of its color only serving to dare her more insistently. It's the newest thing about the book, and something tells her it is _for her_ ; her gut is telling her that ass of a man put it there on purpose, knowing her as he knew so many -impossibly well. Too well for her to bother with further resistance.

Glynda scoots her chair forward, the legs groaning curtly against the freshly polished floor. Setting the book on her desk with one hand, the other goes for the bit of leather holding it together before peeling back the cover. It bristles and cracks, the old glue of the spine resisting to even this gentle handling as her nail catches the space between the ribbon and the page, revealing what she believes she was meant to see. There, written near the top of the page in the intentional fashion of a letter, Glynda reads the opening line and then chuckles to herself.

 

 _Hello, Glynda_.

_Congratulations on finding this, as I had lost it some time back and had a slight worry you wouldn't. I won't bother chancing a guess at the state of things that brought you to this point because you already know them, and, after a fashion, so do I as you might have guessed. Well, you were right, I knew a great deal more than I ever admitted to, and I wished I didn't have to keep so much of it from you until now. For as much good as it serves now, I hope you will believe that I didn't withhold any of what you'll find in my journal needlessly. Mother made certain I knew what to give and what to keep. My mother saw things, the past and the future I mean, she saw you as the new headmaster of Beacon, although, if that hasn't happened yet, I apologize for ruining the surprise._

_In truth, if things played out as expected, you won't get much out of my journal aside from closure, and yet, by the same token, it might be exactly what you and several others need. The next few pages are little more than explanations, admissions, and apologies that are long overdue. Regardless, I know you'll make good use of them, if there is anything to be made of them at all, because that's just how you are. You are someone I could always count on, my best friend, and I loved you more than I could ever say. Thank you for everything._

_Though I would ask one last favor of you: do better by the children than I did. Make sure they know all their pain is worth something. They deserve at least that much._

 

Glynda is staring again, no longer reading but letting the words settle in her mind. After a moment she shrugs and sits back in her chair, taking off her glasses to rub at the mild burn in her eyes. With her hand still at her face she chuckles again, this time adding a little shake of her head. "You absolute _ass_." she says to herself, her tone watery though she's still laughing. "I loved you too." And she pushes through the last of the little tears, collecting herself as she puts her glasses back on and turns the page.

 

 

Author's Note: That's it. Wow. It's finished. I'm kind of floored right now, so I don't have much to say other than thanks to everyone who chose to take on the task of reading this monster. From those who started out with me, to those who started as early as this morning, thanks so much for the company and I'm happy you gave my work a chance. It's been a blast. The Ask the Author Video is now available! Check out my Tumblr for the link!

 

**Author's Note:**

> some of the folks on tumblr responsible for inspiring and helping me write this mess: rontra, weisspresso, razenix, 
> 
> simplykorra/pyrrhafuckingnikos, wizthewolf, 
> 
> maximalcatpossible, theivorytowercrumbles, strayphoenix/fireonallwires


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